Star Tron: The Retreat
by MustangAce
Summary: Someone wants Allura dead, and with the Castle of Lions in disarray, there's only one safe place. Will our heroes be able to find and stop whoever's behind this? Rated T for language and minor suggestive themes.
1. Intruders

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything that belongs to WEP or CBS/Paramount, so don't sue me. I'm not making any money off this anyway. What I do own are the crew of the _Berlin_, except Mordock and Scotty, the fighter _Thunderwing,_ and the story itself. _

_This one's gonna be qutie a bit more character-oriented than my previous fics, but there'll still be a fair amount of trademark MustangAce action. So let me know what you think._

Star Tron: The Retreat

Chapter 1: Intruders

_Castle of Lions, Arus_

The night was quiet and peaceful. A light breeze whispered through the trees around the Castle of Lions and rippled the surface of the moat. Overhead, the stars twinkled brightly, and Arus' three moons cast a ghostly light on the royal palace.

But all was not as peaceful as it seemed. Overhead, a black shape soared toward the castle, its engines barely audible above the breeze. Like a giant vulture, it moved silently and inexorably toward its destination.

Coming into a hover above the castle, its cockpit opened, and a rope fell toward the roof of one of the castle towers. A lone figure, a black-clad ghost in the night, slid down from the craft and onto the roof. Landing with barely a sound, he began making his way down the roof. Already, he could see his destination, a gap in the castle's armor plating where the weapons had been removed.

This man was no soldier, not as such. He preferred the term "soldier of fortune", but the simple fact was that he was a mercenary, and one with some experience in assassination. When he'd been approached by his current client about a hit at the Castle of Lions, he'd almost left. In fact, he'd almost made it to the door. But when he was told that security at the castle was in pieces owing to repair and refit work, he decided that the job just might be worth it. And of course, the pay was damn good.

Crawling along the sheer steel wall, he entered the gap, and slowly maneuvered onto the ceiling. It always amazed him how everyone thought thick, metallic armor was the best defense. It just made his job easier.

Looking around, he saw no guards posted. Only a few space mice in the corner, which fled into a ventilation shaft as soon as they saw him. And why should there be guards here? The gap was over fifty meters above the ground, much too far to jump, and the smooth steel wall was unclimbable, with each panel being nearly three meters across.

Staying on the ceiling, the mercenary made his way to the door and out into the corridor. He saw several camera mounts sweeping the corridor, but their angle made them no threat. He easily navigated around them and continued into the next section of the corridor. A quick jog into a side corridor, and he found himself almost at his goal.

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Keith yawned. It was his turn to cover the graveyard shift until practice in the morning, when he'd be relieved by Coran for the day shift. He took another swig from the cup of cold coffee he had with him. With most of the castle's defenses and security systems partially or totally offline, he had to be extra vigilant. He'd added extra guards to cover vital areas, but so far, all had been quiet.

The castle was into the second week of an expected four-week upgrade. Following the episode with the Konogg Brigade and the invasion, Coran, along with Adam's help, had convinced Starfleet to modify and update the castle with more powerful weapons. While the missile launchers and several of the anti-fighter laser emplacements would remain, most of the heavier laser cannons were being replaced by phasers, and a photon torpedo launcher was being installed in each tower. Also, the castle was being fitted with deflector shields to supplement the thick armor plating, as well as a transporter and several other useful devices. The specs on these would also be sent to the Alliance so they could work on their own versions.

In return, the _Berlin_ was being provided with additional ion-dart launchers for missile defense, and a final agreement was nearing completion that would "lease" the submerged Doom base off the coast to Starfleet for use as a base until the orbital facility was complete.

Keith was about to begin checking in with the guards again when Cheddar, Pip, and Squeak suddenly came running up the side of the console and jumped around excitedly in front of him. "What's the matter, guys? Run out of cheese?" Keith asked dismissively.

The mice shook their heads and started pantomiming crawling and shooting pistols. Keith didn't quite know what they were trying to say, but it had nothing to do with cheese.

Frustrated, Cheddar pulled on Keith's collar, pointing toward the door. This message was unambiguous. "What's wrong?" he asked again. "Is someone in the castle?"

The mice jumped up and down, nodding their heads emphatically. Keith got the message. "Is the Princess in danger?" More nods. Keith knew that the mice had a tendency to exaggerate, but never about Allura. If they believed she was in trouble…

He slammed his hand down on the alarm button, but nothing happened. He hit it twice more, but still with no effect. His anger flared, but he'd deal with that later. Pulling a pistol from a locker on the wall, he raced from the control room, calling into his communicator for all guards to converge on the royal chambers.

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Ahead lay the entrance to the royal chambers. Outside, a lone guard stood watch. But in the dim light of the corridor, the mercenary was nearly invisible. Slowly, he crept forward, pulling a weapon from his belt. He wouldn't kill the guard. Not that he had any qualms about taking out whoever he had to in order to get the job done, but he preferred the cruel sense of defeat and humiliation that would come to the guard with his failure. It was his way of adding insult to injury.

He aimed carefully and shot a tranquilizer dart into the guard's neck. He looked around, shocked, took one stumbling step, and dropped.

With the guard out of the way, the mercenary dropped to the floor. Whipping another device from a pouch on his belt, he quickly disabled the door locks, and stepped inside. The door had just shut behind him when the guard's radio crackled, carrying Keith's alarm. But the assassin heard nothing behind the soundproof door.

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Princess Allura woke suddenly. Something didn't feel right. She thought she'd heard her door open a moment before, but she saw no-one in the room. A chill ran down her spine. Something was wrong. Slowly, she reached toward her nightstand, grabbing a small cylinder and holding it tightly in her hand, her thumb poised over the switch on the end.

Suddenly, she was grabbed from behind. She struggled and tried to call for help as she was dragged from her bed, but a hand was clamped tight over her mouth as a low voice whispered, "Shh. Be a good girl now, and this'll all be over soon."

Terrified, Allura tried to turn to her attacker, but the mercenary held her tight. He preferred to do this sort of work up close and personal. And with a target as lovely as the princess, he didn't mind letting his fingers do some of the talking. "We can do this the easy way, or the hard way, your choice," he said. He felt the princess relax a bit. "That's right," he said, as his hand slid down across her body and around to the dagger on his belt.

Allura was disgusted. Perhaps more that than frightened. She quickly pressed the button on the device, and it began to blink. Just a few more seconds… She felt her attacker pull something off his belt, and knew her time was almost up.

Just then, she felt a tingle start at the base of her spine, and gradually the room dissolved around her in a blue haze. She just had time to hear Keith and the others crashing through the door into her room as the world faded around her.

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Keith and Lance were the first through the door. A guard hit the lights as Lance and Keith opened fire, both hitting the mercenary squarely in the chest. As he felt to the ground, a bronze-colored knife fell from his grasp. The man was dead before he hit the ground.

The Voltron Force and the guards fanned out around the room. Keith and Lance checked the dead merc, while the others looked for the Princess. "Keith, the Princess isn't here," Pidge said with alarm.

But Keith was unfazed. He pulled his communicator from his belt and pressed a few buttons. "This is Commander Keith calling the _Starship Berlin_. Do you have the Princess?"

_U.S.S. Berlin_

_In orbit over Arus_

Allura sat on the edge of the transporter pad, shivering from fear and the cool temperature in the chamber. Taking several deep breaths to calm herself, she looked over as the door opened and Captain Driscoll walked in with Dr. Saladin. Neither was in full uniform, suggesting they'd both been awakened at her arrival.

"Ally, what happened?" Driscoll asked, kneeling beside her. He saw her shivering and looked at the transporter attendant. "Get her a blanket, Foley."

Allura shook her head, but didn't look up. "I don't know. I heard the door open and I woke up, and then someone grabbed me from behind. He… he touched me… and then he reached for something, and I hit the transponder."

Since her capture by the Konogg Brigade, Driscoll had given her a transponder to carry in case something like that ever happened again, and the starship could beam her to safety immediately.

Adam nodded and looked at Saladin. "She'll be all right, Captain," the doctor replied, stroking his mustache. "She's had quite a scare, but no physical harm done, aside from some light bruising." Saladin stepped back as Ensign Foley handed Allura a blanket, and she quickly wrapped it around herself.

"_Bridge to transporter room_."

Driscoll looked up. "Transporter room, Driscoll here."

"_Commander Keith is calling about the Princess, sir._"

"Send it through." He paused and a moment later, he heard Keith's voice. "_Is the Princess safe?"_

"Yeah, boss. She's okay. Pretty shook up, though. What happened?"

"_We need to talk, but not like this. Can you come down with Allura_?"

"On the way." Driscoll replied. "Tell Nanny we'll beam the Princess to her room. I assume you left a mess in the Princess' chambers."

"_Good idea. Keith out_."

Adam looked at Allura. "You okay to go?" he asked. "Or do you want to take a couple minutes?"

Allura looked at him, the first time she'd made eye contact since he got there. He saw the traces of fear, but there was a measure of calm as well. Nodding, she said, "I'll be all right. Besides, Nanny will lecture me for hours about proper dress in public if I don't get down there."

Adam smiled slightly at her half-hearted attempt at humor. "Okay. Nanny'll be right there waiting for you, and we'll see you in the Control Room. Take your time." He'd never seen her so upset as she was now. She usually didn't react so strongly to situations like this. A result of her combat experience perhaps, but this rare show of trepidation had Adam concerned.

Taking her hand, he helped her up and onto the transporter pad. They didn't release each other until just after Driscoll commanded, "Energize."

_Castle of Lions, Arus_

Walking into the Control Room, Captain Driscoll saw that Coran and the other members of the Voltron Force were already waiting for him. He'd walked Allura to Nanny's room and made sure she was safe before heading up. Surprisingly, Nanny had thanked him for the effort.

"Is she all right?" Coran asked.

Adam nodded. "A few bruises, but nothing bad. Coulda been a lot worse."

Coran relaxed a bit, but said nothing more.

"So who's the bad guy?" Driscoll asked. "And for his sake, I hope you killed him, after what he did…"

Keith held up his hand to stop the Captain's rant. "Yeah, he's dead. And we found this." He held up the mercenary's knife. The blade was dark bronze in color, with a black handle. Keith held it wrapped in a cloth Driscoll reached out to touch it, but Keith pulled it back. "No, it's poisoned. One touch and you're a goner."

"This was no kidnapping attempt. This man intended to kill Allura," said Coran.

Driscoll was shocked. "Kill her? Why? Who?"

"We dunno," said Hunk. "But when I get my hands on him…" He punched his palm hard, leaving no doubt about what awaited the mastermind of this plot.

"We should know more by tomorrow," Coran said. "But that's not why we asked you to come."

"Really? So why?" Driscoll asked.

"Frankly, the reason the assassin was able to get in was because of the refits. There are too many security gaps," Coran replied.

"The security cameras didn't see him. His ship was found hovering over the castle, near one of the new torpedo rooms. He probably got in there," said Pidge.

"The main alarm system was offline," said Keith. "Your guys didn't turn it back on when they finished their work yesterday, like they were supposed to."

"Hold on a sec here. Are you saying this is _my _fault?" Driscoll asked incredulously.

"No. Not directly," said Coran.

"But your guys, yeah," said Lance.

"I don't _believe_ this! I guess the first thing that gets fixed is always the blame, ain't it?" he asked hotly. "We didn't force these refits down your throat, ya know. You asked for 'em, and we agreed. Now you're blaming…"

"Adam, wait," said Keith.

"No, _you_ wait, dude. What have I ever done but stick my neck out to help you guys? I damn near got court-martialed, Starfleet's giving you…"

"Captain, _enough_!" Coran said sternly. Driscoll's mouth snapped shut mid-sentence. "We are not accusing you. We're trying to find a way to keep this from happening again. Giving Allura that emergency beacon saved her life tonight, and we have you to thank for that." Hearing that sentence blew the anger right out of Driscoll, and made him feel more than a little sheepish. Once again, he'd blown his stack at the wrong time.

"What happened tonight was the result of many factors. Now we've already reactivated the alarms, but we still don't know how the security monitors, which _were_ working, didn't detect him," Coran continued.

"The guard was knocked out. He never knew what hit him." Lance said.

"This guy was a real pro," said Pidge.

"That's the problem. Someone hired a professional hit on Allura. Someone wants her dead," said Keith

"Can't be Lotor," said Hunk. "He just plain wants her." The look his comment earned from the others stifled any further opinions.

"Whoever it is…" Keith continued. "They probably won't stop with one try. And next time, it'll be different. With the castle's defenses in the state they are, it's going to be a lot harder to keep the Princess safe."

"I can arrange to get work crews around the clock, but we'll only be able to shave off a week at most. That's still at least two weeks to complete the refit," said Adam. "And there'll be almost constant problems with your systems until they finish."

"We've already determined that the Castle of Lions is no longer safe enough for the Princess," said Coran. "Our only alternatives are the starbase and your ship, Captain."

"Then you've only got one option, unless you want Allura hot-bunking with Starfleet engineers. The starbase is operational, but the only livable accommodations are enlisted quarters."

Just then, the Control Room's great steel blast doors opened, and Allura walked in, with Nanny by her side. She joined the group at the console. "Princess, are you all right?" Coran asked.

Allura nodded.

"Coran, I told her she should sleep, but she insisted on coming," Nanny complained.

"That is best, Nanny." Coran explained the situation to Allura. "So you see, for the time being, it is not safe for you here, until we complete the refit, or stop whoever is trying to have you killed," he finished.

At this point, Adam spoke up. "If you want, Allura, you can stay on the _Berlin_ until we get this taken care of. You can beam down in the morning for practice to take care of whatever you gotta do, and come back up at night for security."

Nanny immediately objected. "You call that security? And what happens if you are attacked?"

"We have shields and our weapons work fine. The hatches for the ion dart launchers are already installed. The rest of the work is internal. Allura will be perfectly safe," Adam assured her, a bit annoyed.

"Princess, I still think you'd be better off…"

"With my people," Allura cut in. "I appreciate you offer, Adam, but my people are in just as much danger as me, and I won't flee when they can't."

"Allura, you're not running away. It's temporary. And you'll be down here whenever you need to be. We ain't locking you up."

"Your sentiments are noble, Allura, and I agree with you. But your people also need their Princess," said Coran. "And for the time being, I think this is the best choice."

"Besides, who has to know? You could come and go from your room, and nobody but us would know what's really going on," said Pidge.

Allura saw the reason in their statements. She hated being hidden away and protected so much, but she had to admit, this time, things were a bit more serious. Finally, she nodded. "All right. I'll go to the _Berlin_ for now. But only until the castle upgrades are finished."

"It's decided, then," said Coran approvingly. "The Princess will remain on the starship unless official business requires her presence."

"Including combat," Driscoll chimed in. Seeing the dark look from Nanny, he quickly added, "With the castle defenses down, we can't afford not to have Voltron ready."

"Quite right, Captain," said Coran. "Now, I believe we have arrangements to make. The rest of you should try to get some sleep. Including you, Commander," he added for Keith. "I will take the watch, and a guard can relieve me early today."

Keith agreed, adding, "We'll push practice off until nine, so everyone get some sleep." On that note, the group drifted out.

Adam caught Allura near the door. "I know how you feel about this, Allura. And I'll do everything I can to get you back here ASAP."

Allura nodded, the events of the past hour already catching up with her. She yawned and headed down the hall, with Nanny close behind. Adam nodded to the governess, and called for a beam up. The princess' silence bothered him, but he figured she'd be better after some sleep and a little time.


	2. Checking In

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything that belongs to WEP or CBS/Paramount, so don't sue me. I'm not making any money off this anyway. What I do own are the crew of the _Berlin_, except Mordock and Scotty, the fighter _Thunderwing,_ and the story itself.  
_

Star Tron: The Retreat

Chapter 2: Checking In  


_Arus:_

_Somewhere over the desert, north of the Castle of Lions  
_

Coming out of a formation turn, Keith looked around at the others. Lance, Hunk, and Pidge had kept position relatively well. They were a little displaced, but not badly enough to affect any formation tactics they might use in combination with the sudden, sharp turn.

Allura, however, was out of formation by at least half a kilometer. Consequently, so was Adam, who as usual stuck to Allura like a flea on a dog. Normally, Keith would have mentioned something to her, but given the events of last night, he decided to let it slide today. Instead, he decided to call it a day. "All right, that's it for this morning. Everyone head back for lunch."

Several acknowledgements at once came through his radio, and none of them objected. They headed back toward the Castle of Lions, peeling off one by one to head to their dens. Adam was the last to leave formation, waiting until Blue Lion had slipped beneath the surface of the moat before pulling into a vertical climb toward the starship orbiting above.

It wasn't until Keith was riding the tram back into the Castle that his thoughts finally came out of combat mode. The first thing he thought about was Allura relocating to the _Berlin_ today. He couldn't help but note that it also meant she'd be much closer to Adam. He could see his chance slipping further away every second he delayed. He knew how he felt about Allura.

But did she feel the same way? Would she even consider his feelings? Of course she would, but would she reciprocate, or rebuff? And she and Adam did have a very good relationship. Even he had to admit that. He'd waited so long, putting her on a pedestal, worshipping her from afar. How could he overcome that?

And then there was his timing. He couldn't just blurt it out. He had to tell her in private, just between the two of them. Everything had to be done properly. But every time a good opportunity arose, he froze. He just couldn't make himself commit.

Maybe that was a sign. Maybe he didn't really feel the way he thought he did. Or maybe he was just plain scared.

Before he could think any further, the tram stopped and he reached up to grab the bar to ride up to the control room. For now, he'd have to put the topic on a mental shelf. He had other duties to attend to.

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_U.S.S. Berlin_

_In orbit above Arus  
_

That afternoon, Allura beamed up to the starship, with several guards, Nanny, and a large assortment of bags, cases, and other travel containers. Nanny, who had never been on the ship before, took in the small, dim transporter room. "Hmph. Certainly not much to look at."

Allura, unseen by Nanny, rolled her eyes. "This is only a transporter room, Nanny. The rest of the ship is much nicer."

"I like to think so," Adam said as he stepped from behind the transporter console. He looked at the guards. "Thanks, guys, we'll take it from here." He said.

Confused, the guards looked at Allura, who nodded. The guards took orders from all the members of the Voltron Force, who were officially higher-ranking, but Adam's position had always been a point of confusion, as he wasn't an Arusian or Alliance service member.

As the transporter whisked the guards back to Arus, Adam looked over the collection of bags and asked, "What is all this?"

"Her Royal Highness' matched luggage," Nanny replied. "You can't expect someone of the Princess' stature to arrive without certain necessities."

Adam did his best to suppress a smile as he nodded. "Uh, right. Well, if you'll follow me, I'll show you to your room."

The women followed the Captain out of the transporter room and down the corridor. Entering the turbolift, Adam called out "Deck six." He turned to Allura. "We've got you set up in the VIP suite. It's on the port side, near the bow, so you'll have a great view."

"And where's your cabin, Captain?" Nanny asked suspiciously.

"About seven doors down. Gredar and Jacobs are the next two from that. Deck six is what we call 'officer's country'. Senior staff, VIP's, department heads, and most of the crew rec facilities are there, including the holodeck. Sickbay's one up on deck five."

Nanny nodded, apparently satisfied that Allura wouldn't be associating with anyone _too_ far below her station. For her part, Allura was starting to think that maybe this wouldn't be such a bad thing after all.

As if sensing her thoughts, Adam said, "You could look at this as an educational opportunity, Princess. Sort of like, immersive diplomatic training or something."

Allura smiled at his attempt to keep Nanny appeased. It was the first time she'd smiled since the incident the night before. Adam noticed, and felt a bit more relieved, and glad to see she was coming out of the funk she'd been in all day.

Leaving the lift, the three walked down the corridor to the cabin. When they entered, though, Nanny gasped. "You call this a stateroom?" she demanded. "This is a closet!" The room was five meters from the door to the bulkhead, and had two chambers. The living area was five meters across, and the bedroom was two and a half. Off the bedroom was a shower unit and a small closet. The room was sparsely furnished, but suitable for entertaining several guests in the main room, and comfortably appointed in the bedroom and bathroom.

Adam looked at Nanny. "Nanny, this ship is sixty years old. This is as big as they built them back then. My cabin's even smaller, and I'm the CO, so can we please not nitpick?" Nanny harrumphed, but said nothing. Adam took Allura around the room, showing her how to use the replicator and computer terminal. In the bathroom, he explained, "We've got sonic showers here, but I'll set you up with a water ration." As they walked back through the room, he said, more for Nanny's benefit, "I'll post a guard at your door. There's nothing to worry about, but in case you need something…" Finally, he reached into a pouch on his uniform. "Here," he said, holding out a combadge.

Allura looked at him suspiciously. "Why? You want to keep track of me?"

"In case I need to talk to you, or vice-versa," Driscoll replied. "Just tap it, say 'Allura to Driscoll' or whatever, and the computer takes care of the rest. Wear it if you want, or just keep it in your pocket, but keep it with you while you're aboard."

Allura nodded, taking the device and pocketing it. Just then, there was a chirp from the door. "Come in," said Allura.

The doors swished open, and three security guards came in carrying Allura's things. They set them in the middle of the room, and left. Adam eyed the pile and looked at the two women. "Well, if you ladies'll excuse me, I've got some paperwork to do." He turned to Allura. "If you need anything, gimme a holler."

Allura nodded. She knew very well that Adam was just trying to get out before Nanny put him to work. "All right. Thank you, Captain," she said formally.

"Princess," he said with a nod. "Nanny," he said, turning to the governess. She acknowledged him with a nod of her own, and he walked out of the room.

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Later that evening, after Nanny had left, Allura was settling into her quarters. At first, Nanny had insisted on staying with Allura, for the sake of propriety, but Allura was able to convince her otherwise. Nanny would be more comfortable at the Castle, and Allura would still need her as a go-to person for her own business.

She sat down on the sofa and stared out the window, into the stars. The blue disc of Arus was just visible, the shadow of night just starting to creep across the land below. It was a surprisingly calming scene, like watching the rain fall on a misty afternoon.

The chirp of her door chime startled her. Who could be coming to see her here? But after a moment's thought, it became obvious. "Come in, Adam."

The Captain stepped through the door, now dressed in jeans and a dark green, collared shirt instead of his usual Starfleet pilot's uniform. He held a small bundle cradled in his arm. "How'd ya know it was me?"

"Who else would it be?" Allura asked, looking at him skeptically.

Adam nodded. "Yeah, you're probably right. Anyway, I thought these would brighten the atmosphere a bit." He handed the package to Allura, and when she unwrapped it, she found a dozen cream-colored, rose-like flowers.

"Adam, they're beautiful. What are they?"

"Altairean tree-lilies," he replied. "I was able to talk the ship's botanist out of a few he was going to plant in the arboretum." He said rather evasively. Based on how he was acting, Allura was willing to bet Adam had either pulled rank to get them, or just plain stolen them. She smiled at him knowingly and laid them on the table. "Just a little 'welcome aboard', cabin-warming thing."

Giggling at his discomfort, she said, "Thank you. Please, sit down." She gestured to the seat next to her. Adam quickly sat down, asking, "So… is everything all right?"

Allura looked around the cabin. "Yes, so far. It _is_ a little smaller than my chambers, but it's comfortable."

Adam shook his head. "No, not the cabin. I mean you, and yesterday, and everything."

"Oh..." She trailed off a moment, caught off-guard. She'd been trying not to think about it all day, and put it behind her, but as she considered it, she realized that it was still with her. "I don't know. It… I mean, he…"

Adam laid her hand on hers. "It's okay, Ally. If you don't wanna talk about it, it's okay. I just want you to know that I'm here, if you do. Or when you do."

Allura nodded. "I know." She smiled at him. "You always seem to be there, don't you?"

"Hey, what're wingmen for?" Adam replied, trying to draw her out. "I've got your back, Ally. Always will."

Allura smiled again and squeezed his hand, silently thanking him as she glanced out at the stars. "It's just… I was so scared. I knew that it wasn't another kidnapping. I knew that he wanted to… to kill me. The way he talked to me, the way he touched me…" She looked at Adam a moment, then dropped her head. "I've never felt so humiliated. So disgusted."

Adam just sat there for several minutes, letting her do all the talking. He was glad she was able to get some of it out. He could see it at practice and all day that it was eating at her. "He didn't just want to kidnap me or kill me. He wanted to… If Keith and Lance hadn't gotten there when they did, if I didn't have the transponder…"

She looked at the Captain, her eyes expressing the emotions she couldn't put into words. He moved his hand up to her shoulder, giving her a reassuring squeeze. "I know… No, I don't. I can't imagine what that must have been like for you." He trailed off, not knowing what else to say. He wanted to reassure and comfort her, but the words just wouldn't come. Finally, he said, "But you still beat him. You weren't helpless, Ally, and you didn't act like it. You got yourself out of there. You did, not Keith, and not me. You." He paused a moment, letting her absorb his words, then he looked her in the eye, and said with deadly conviction, "And I don't believe for one minute that he could have really gotten you. If you didn't have the transponder, you'd have still found a way."

"But I _felt_ so helpless, so filthy, so… I don't even know how to describe it."

Adam nodded. "That's not unusual, Allura. I'm no expert, but from what I hear, considering what he did to you, that's a normal reaction. What he did was," his lip curled in disgust at the thought of the assassin touching Allura. "It was just the low-down, dirtiest thing you can do to a woman. But you have to realize _he_ was the creep, not you. You did your best to get out of that situation as soon as you could. You did nothing wrong."

Allura sat there for several minutes, staring out the window, and thinking about what Adam had said. And he was right, she realized. She felt scared and humiliated at the time, but she still had the presence of mind to do something to save herself. Finally, she looked over at her wingman. "I know you're right, but it's still hard."

"I never said it was easy. You'll get through this, Allura. You just have to realize that sometimes, crap happens. It's what you do about it that counts." He squeezed her shoulder again reassuringly, glad that Allura seemed to be coming around a little.

Allura was surprised. For a kid of sixteen, Adam sometimes talked like Coran. Silently, she nodded.

"Well, I'll let you get some rest. You look like you could use it," said Adam. He smiled at her one last time, and then got up to leave. As he got halfway across the cabin, he heard Allura call softly to him. Turning, he was surprised to see Allura standing right behind him. Without a word, she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a quick hug. Adam put his arms around her back, careful about how he touched her.

But as suddenly as the moment began, it was over. Allura stepped back, blushing slightly at her boldness. "Thanks, Adam. I do feel a little better. And I think you're right. He was the one with the problem, not me."

"Anytime, Ally. Just remember. What happened was bad, but you can deal with it, and you will. Just don't try to avoid it. And if you need to talk again, come find me. Anytime."

"Thanks," Allura said again, as Adam turned and left her cabin.

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_Castle Doom_

On planet Doom, King Zarkon paced his chambers in frustration. He was doing that far more often of late, so much so that he could swear he could see an area of the floor that was becoming shinier than the rest. Mostly because of Lotor and his repeated failures to dispose of Voltron. But now, he was stewing over another failure. It seemed that the old saying was true. Good help was _very_ hard to find.

He'd just received word from his spies on Arus that Princess Allura had survived the assassin he'd sent after her, and was now in hiding aboard the starship. That was exactly what he had hoped _wouldn't_ happen. With his fleets depleted and in disarray after the invasion fiasco, it would be difficult for some time to field a force capable of dealing with the starship with any certainty. So now, he had to find another way to get her.

The Princess, he had come to realize, was the key to the defeat of Voltron. She was the one key piece without which Arus would fall, and his forces would be free to take on the rest of the Alliance, and even push into the Federation. Without her, Voltron was cut off from its creator, King Alfor, and his power. Indeed, he could not even be formed without her and her Blue Lion. And without her as a distraction, Lotor would be able to focus on conquest and grooming himself to take over the kingdom. Yes, disposing of the Princess would be most beneficial indeed.

The problem was how to do it. An attack was not an option, as she was always defended within the Castle of Lions, or with her Lion ship. And with the _Berlin_ at Arus, any force he sent would be significantly weakened before it even reached the planet. That was why he had decided on the assassin. But that plan had now failed, and thus he was back to his original question: how to dispose of her?

It was a vexing conundrum. Wiping out whole armies and conquering planets was child's play. A simple game. But assassinating a single person, that was difficult, especially when that one person was so well protected. He knew the Voltron Force would be ready for another attempt as had just been made, so that option was closed.

Perhaps it was time to consult Haggar. He'd rather have kept this to himself, but there seemed to be no other choice. It was made riskier by the fact that he knew very well that she would inform Lotor of his plan if she could get something out of it. That would make Lotor want to interfere. The boy was so obsessed with Princess Allura, he could no longer see the liability she had become.

Luckily, the problem of Lotor's interference was easily remedied. At least for the time being.

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_Castle of Lions_

_Arus_

The next morning, Allura beamed down to the Castle of Lions just before practice. During the exercise, Keith noticed that her performance was only slightly below normal. It was obvious that she was feeling better now that she'd put a little time between her and the assassination attempt.

After practice, the pilots gathered in the control room for the usual debriefing, after which Keith asked Adam and Allura to stay behind. As the others left, he turned to them and said, "The preliminary reports are in on the assassin and his gear."

"Well?" Adam asked expectantly. "Don't keep us in suspense, boss."

"His ship was covered by some kind of low-grade energy field that deflected sensors and quieted the engine sounds. Our techs have never seen anything like it, neither have Hunk or Pidge."

"You want my guys to have a look?" Adam asked. "It's possible the guy could be Fed-Side." "Fed-Side" was a word that had recently popped up on Arus to describe anyone from the Federation side of the wormhole. It was certainly easier to say than "Alternate Milky Way", and less confusing.

Keith shook his head. "Commander Wright sent someone to check it out. It isn't from the Federation, or any race in your databanks." Quickly, he changed the subject. "We also figured out how he got in without the visual sensors seeing him." He went to a storage locker and pulled out one of the assassin's gloves. He pressed a switch on the back and threw it against a wall. It hit the steel with a metallic _thunk_ and stuck there. "There are electro-magnets on the back of the gloves, and a series of scuff marks we traced back to the weapons bay."

"So the guy comes in with a nearly-cloaked ship," said Adam, "Shimmies into a weapon port, and pulls a Peter Parker to avoid our sensors. Is that what you're saying?"

Allura looked at him quizzically. "Who's Peter Parker?"

"Spider-Man," Adam replied. Allura still didn't seem to understand. "I'll tell ya later," he said.

"Yes," said Keith. "That's about it. But other than that, our assassin is just a typical, run-of-the-mill Drule."

"Drule?" Adam and Allura both asked.

"You mean Zarkon did this?" Allura asked.

"Maybe. Don't forget, there are other kingdoms in the Drule Empire. And with all the face Zarkon's been losing over Voltron, someone may have decided to help him out."

"So what do we do?" Allura asked.

"Unfortunately, there's not much we can do," said Keith. "If Zarkon's behind all this, the only way to stop it is to stop him, which, at the moment, we can't."

"And what if it's one of the other Drules?" Adam asked.

"We'll know soon. I called in a favor at Galaxy Garrison, and if they hear anything about an assassination attempt on Arus, they'll relay the information." He looked at Allura with a slightly pained expression, like he didn't really want to say what he had to say next. "For the time being, until we finish the upgrades and re-secure the castle, it looks like you'll have to stay on the _Berlin_. I'm really sorry, Princess."

Allura nodded. "It isn't your fault, Keith. You did all you could. At least now we know what's going on, and who's behind it. "

And awkward silence descended on the trio, before Adam's combadge chirped. "Berlin _to Driscoll_," Gredar's voice hissed. "_You_ _are needed in the conference room_."

Driscoll slapped his badge. "Acknowledged." He glanced at Keith and Allura. "Duty calls," he said, and walked quickly from the room.

Alone with the Princess, Keith suddenly felt that old awkwardness again. He was about to ask her how she was feeling, when she said, "Well, I have some things I should take care of. Thanks for everything, Keith. I feel better knowing what we're up against."

Keith nodded. "Anytime, Princess." He stood as if anchored to the floor as she turned and walked out. When the door closed, Keith cursed himself. Well, at least he was consistent. Another perfectly good opportunity shot to hell. How was he ever going to tell Allura how he felt if he couldn't take the chances when they came?

But then, maybe it was a sign. It was his own rule that Allura was off limits, and now here he was, the man who made the rule, pining over the woman he himself had placed out of bounds. And he didn't even know how she felt about him. If she didn't feel the same way, he could understand. At least he'd know. But the not knowing…

But, as always, Keith swallowed his emotions and headed to his room. He had a stack of paperwork a mile high to take care of after the invasion, and now, he supposed, was as good a time as any to take a chunk out of it.


	3. Cabin Fever

_Yes, dear readers, Ace is back. I've been flying through flak so thick you can walk on it, but I'm still here and ready for another pass. Hopefully, I won't be in the soup this long again, 'cuz it ain't fun. But enough about me. I know what you all want….._

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything that belongs to WEP or CBS/Paramount, so don't sue me. I'm not making any money off this anyway. What I do own are the crew of the _Berlin_, except Mordock and Scotty, the fighter _Thunderwing,_ and the story itself._

Star Tron: The Retreat

Chapter 3: Cabin Fever

_Starship Berlin_

_In orbit above Arus_

The identification of the assassin proved to be an ill omen for Allura. As soon as Nanny and Coran found out that it was Zarkon, or at least the Drules, behind the attempt on Allura's life, the Princess was all but confined to her cabin on the Berlin. For the next three days, Allura spent all her time on the starship, except for Lion practice, dinner, and one meeting with Commander Wright and the Shavena town council.

And she was going nuts.

"It's not fair," she muttered to herself as she read over the latest reports of the reconstruction of the towns and villages in Altair Province. Her aunt, Queen Orla, was overseeing the reconstruction efforts in her province of Helena.

"Zarkon decides to do something, and I'm the one who has to suffer for it." She flipped a page angrily, continuing to read as she stewed on her situation. But her attention wasn't really on the document in front of her. She'd already read so many of them in the past few months that she could almost predict what was going to be said, just based on who submitted it and how.

Finally, she tossed it down on the desk in front of her. She had to get out of this cabin, or she was going to lose her mind! She belonged on Arus, with her people. Not hiding up here. It was bad enough she had to sleep aboard the ship for fear of another attempt on her life. Now Nanny and Coran had all but banished her from the castle.

She got up and walked out of her cabin. "Lieutenant," she said to the guard at her door as she breezed by.

"Uh, Princess…"

"I'm just going for a walk," she said, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice.

The guard nodded. "You know where you're headed?" she asked.

"Not really. But I'll be okay. If the Captain asks, tell him I declined your help," Allura added, remembering that the security people took their jobs pretty seriously.

The Lieutenant nodded again and resumed her post.

Allura walked down the corridor, looking around at the comings and goings of the crew. Most of them nodded to her as they passed, but made no special notice of her. Polite but impersonal. And that suited Allura just fine. She wasn't really in a mood to talk. She just wanted to wander around and shake the frustration and boredom that had been bothering her lately.

After a few minutes, she came to a turbolift, and she got an idea.

_Castle of Lions_

_Arus_

Keith walked into the kitchen in the Castle of Lions, a towel draped around his neck. He had just given Lance another good thrashing on the gym's sparring mats, and he'd worked up an appetite. He cast a cautious glance around, making sure Nanny wasn't there to lecture him about waiting until lunch or proper dining attire or any of the other nitpicks she always seemed ready to unleash on him or the others.

There was someone else in the kitchen, but it wasn't Nanny. "Princess?" he asked. "What are you doing here?"

The princess turned, and Keith could see the dish of ice cream she'd been snacking on. "And why shouldn't I be here?" she huffed. "This is my home, after all."

Keith mentally backpedaled. "Sorry. I just wasn't expecting to see you here," he walked up beside her and gestured to the seat next to hers. "May I?"

Allura nodded, and Keith sat down. "So what's left of Lance?" Allura asked as Keith dished himself some ice cream from the tub in front of him. It wasn't hard to tell when Keith and Lance had been going at it in the gym. Keith took no small bit of pleasure in putting his wisecracking second-in-command down a few pegs, and he was almost able to hide his satisfaction.

"Well, a little less of his ego, probably," Keith replied lightly. Allura smiled slightly in return, but he could see that she was still troubled.

They ate in silence for a few moments. Keith knew exactly what was on her mind, but he couldn't find the words he needed to say to her. Finally, he said, "You know Princess, we just don't want you to get hurt."

Allura looked at him coolly. "Please, Keith. If I hear that line one more time, I'm going to scream. I'm tired of hearing about how everyone doesn't want me to get hurt, when all that means is I'm locked away and not allowed to do what I have to for my people."

"Like it or not, Princess, it's the truth," Keith said frankly. "You can't fight for your people if you're dead. We do want you with us. You're part of this team, and what you do for you people would do honor to any royal."

Allura made to get up, not wanting to hear another speech about how she was too valuable to lose, how she needed to be careful, but Keith caught her arm. "Please, Princess, sit down."

She looked at her commander for a moment, debating what to do. Then, slowly, she sat back down. "We care about you. Nanny and Coran care about you. The guys care about you…" He looked at her, eye to eye, "I care about you. And we and your people need you alive to fight with us and for us."

Allura caught the emphasis in Keith's words, and the look in his eye. For a moment, surprise replaced anger and frustration. Was he saying what she thought he was? What did she even think he was saying?

"I know you're frustrated being on the ship so much," Keith continued. "But it's the best we can do for now. I've tried to talk to Nanny and Coran, but they won't listen. This time, their minds are made up. I'm really sorry about all this, Allura." Another surprise. Keith almost never addressed her by name.

"Keith," she said quietly, "I know it's not you. And I know it's not the boys. But I'm tired of being hidden away every time there's trouble. Sometimes I'm surprised I'm allowed to take Blue Lion up. I just want to be able to live my life without worrying about every possible thing that could go wrong and being afraid of it."

Keith nodded. "I know. But…."

"I don't have that option. I'm the Princess of Arus," she finished. She'd heard the line hundreds of times. Thousands. That seemed to be everyone's excuse for keeping her locked up, protected from everyone and everything, including her own life.

"Keith, I ask my people not to be afraid. I ask them to stand up to Doom. And what kind of example am I setting if I run for cover when they come after me?"

"And what kind of example are you setting when you fly that Lion into battle to defend them?" Keith countered. "Princess, the people understand. You have to help yourself, so that you're able to help them. You have to protect yourself, before you can protect them."

Allura nodded. Once again, Keith was right. That air-tight logic of his had beaten her frustrated arguments another day. She came to realize why the guys didn't argue with him much. Besides their great respect for him, they knew they probably couldn't win.

Before Allura could say anything else, the combadge in her pocket chirped. She pulled the offending device out and tapped her thumb on it. "Allura," she said.

"Princess, Coran's calling for you," said Adam's voice. "You want to go talk to him yourself or do you want us to beam you back?" No fooling him either, apparently.

"I'll go see him," said Allura. "I'll contact you when I'm ready to beam up."

"Acknowledged. Berlin out."

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Allura walked into the Control Room with Keith by her side. She'd wanted to go alone, but Keith figured, probably correctly, that Coran would be dissuaded from lecturing her about her unexpected visit if Keith was with her, giving the impression that she was escorted.

As it turned out, he was right. "Your Highness, I'm afraid I have some bad news," the advisor said, nodding to Keith.

"What's wrong?"

"I've just received word from Commander Wright that there has been an attack at the Starfleet supply facility where the next shipment of parts for the castle refit was being held. The supply shipment has been destroyed, and the completion of the refit will be delayed for at least another week, perhaps as much as three."

Allura just looked at Coran. "And what does that mean, exactly?" she asked. She knew, deep down, what Coran's reply would be. But she had to hear it.

"It means, Your Highness, that you will have to stay on the Berlin that much longer. I'm sorry."

"Coran, that's out of the question," she started to argue. Just then, Nanny came into the room.

"There you are, Princess. And just what were you thinking, coming down here unannounced like that? What if we'd come under attack? You could have been in danger!" Nanny's face flushed as she spoke, once again putting full force into her words.

"She wasn't in danger, Nanny," said Keith. "She was with me in the kitchen the whole time."

Allura flashed him a grateful smile for his attempt to defuse the brewing storm of Hurricane Nanny, but the old governess was not assuaged. She whirled back on Allura. "Is this true, Princess? You were alone with this ruffian?"

"Nanny, stop it," Allura said firmly. "Keith would never do anything."

"Allura is right, Nanny. Commander Keith is a man of honor, who has only ever tried to protect and serve the Princess."

"But still, Coran, it is improper…"

Allura would hear no more. Before Nanny even finished her sentence, she'd pulled the combadge from her pocket. "Allura to Berlin, one to beam up."

By the time the last aggravated breath passed Nanny's lips, Allura was gone.

_USS Berlin_

_In orbit above Arus_

Leaving the transporter room, Allura resumed her wanderings of the ship. She didn't want to go back to her cabin just yet. Any other time, she might actually enjoy her time on the ship. But now, with what Coran had just told her, the Berlin was beginning to feel more like a prison.

The princess wandered the decks absently, pacing around the great vessel in the same way she might pace her own chambers. Usually, Keith was the one to pace. But right now, the way she was feeling, she needed to bleed off this frustrated energy somehow, or she'd go crazy.

She walked around for what seemed like hours, only staying still long enough to ride a turbolift to another deck, and even then she shifted her weight anxiously from foot to foot as the car traveled.

At length, she found herself back on deck six, moving toward her cabin. Idly, she scanned the nameplates on the doors. Captain M. Scott… Lieutenant-Commander T. Jacobs… Commander Gredar…

Coming to the next one, she paused. She wasn't really sure she wanted company right now, but then, she was even less sure she wanted to be alone. Finally, she reached out and touched the control panel beside the door. She heard a chime, but there was no reply for a moment. Figuring Driscoll wasn't there, she turned to leave.

"Come in," she heard suddenly behind her. Turning, she walked toward the door, which opened at her approach. Adam swiveled around in his chair as she entered, the door swooshing shut behind her. He smiled and said, "Hey, Ally. What's up?"

For a moment, she didn't reply. She didn't really know what she wanted to say. "The universe isn't fair?" "Everything happens to me?" That's what she was thinking, but she couldn't make herself say it. So, she just shook her head and sat down on the bed.

Driscoll's cabin was fairly small compared to her stateroom. It was about half the size, perhaps three meters by five, with a small washroom and a closet. The bed and desk were along the same wall, which was overlooked by a small window. There was a dresser by the outer wall, and other than the furniture, the room was only lightly decorated. Two pictures hung on the wall, and there were a few items on the dresser, including several books and a model of Thunderwing. A set of shelves near the bathroom held what looked like bones.

"It's the shipment thing, isn't it? You don't like the idea of being stuck here another week or two, do you?"

Allura shook her head. "Don't get me wrong, please. I'm grateful for your help…"

"But you want to be in the thick of it, with your people," Adam finished. Allura nodded, and he added, "And I bet you're bored to tears, ain't ya?"

Allura looked at him in surprise. "No. Well, I mean…"

"It doesn't take an Einstein, Ally. You never come out of that room except to beam down to the castle. You spend all your time reading reports or God-knows-what, and today you snuck down to the castle, hoping for a few minutes to yourself."

Allura just nodded. "It's frustrating. Someone's after me, and I'm the one who gets locked up."

"Well, I never said you couldn't leave. Why do you think I didn't have you beamed right back. I told you you were free to come and go, and I meant it. You're not a prisoner. It's just…"

"Adam, please. Keith and I already had that discussion. If you tell me that you're just trying to keep me safe, I'm going to…"

Adam looked at her. "Um, no… I was going to say that I wished you had just told someone where you were going, rather than making us hunt through the transporter logs." Adam could sympathize with Allura's position. When he'd been grounded for three days after his shoulder injury, he'd been restless and bored. Allura would be facing that for three weeks, and he really felt for her.

He also knew that she didn't want sympathy. She'd probably already gotten more than her fill of that.

Just then, he got an idea. "Well, if it's excitement you want, I think I know how to oblige." He stood up and walked toward the closet. "Have you ever heard of hockey?"

_Doom Launch Complex 14_

_Planet Doom_

King Zarkon walked into the launch bay, the two robot sentries bowing as he passed. Only one ship was currently docked in the complex. It was a slender, almost delicate-looking communications vessel. Where most Doom ships were robust and bristling with weapons, this one was decidedly scrawny, and covered with all sorts of antennae, dishes, and transmission gear.

A shadowy, hooded figure stood near the craft, watching as a large, dangerous-looking missile was loaded aboard, disguised as a sensor array. As the yard workers began bolting the device onto the ship, Zarkon walked up beside the old witch. He studied the work a moment longer before asking, "Are the preparations ready, Haggar?"

The witch turned to face the king. "Yes, sire. Within hours, our specially-modified ship will be in position. Then, it will make the Berlin an offer it cannot refuse. And once they come within range, you'll be rid of them and the princess forever."

Zarkon didn't like the idea of sacrificing one of his valuable communications ships, but if the plan went as he intended, the sacrifice would be more than worth it.

Haggar noted the concerned look on Zarkon's face as he watched the ship's crew make it ready for launch. After so many failures against Voltron and his allies, she knew that his faith in her and her magic as not what it once was. Although, she could take some satisfaction from knowing that she still enjoyed more favor than Lotor.

"Fear not, Sire. Even the power of the Berlin is no match for the primal forces of Nature herself." She cackled evilly. "And then, you will be free to crush Arus and the Voltron Force, once and for all."

Zarkon sneered at her. "We'll see, old witch. We'll see."


	4. Discoveries

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything that belongs to WEP or CBS/Paramount, so don't sue me. I'm not making any money off this anyway. What I do own are the crew of the _Berlin_, except Mordock and Scotty, the fighter _Thunderwing,_ and the story itself._

_And thanks to everyone who's stayed with me so far during my less than stellar update record. I'm trying to speed things up as best I can, and your continued reviews are greatly appreciated._

Star Tron: The Retreat

Chapter 4: Discoveries

_USS Berlin_

_In orbit above Arus_

The streets were teeming with people. Before them stood a large, brick building with several banners hanging above the entrance. Some bore a red star, while others were white, with a blue circle emblazoned with a white buffalo and two crossed swords. Adam now wore an oversize, white shirt with the same emblem on the front and shoulders. The hem and cuffs were striped blue and yellow, and the number "11" was sewn onto the back and sleeves.

The brisk breeze made Allura turn away from the wind as she followed Adam into the building, the echoing _clack_ of her boots washing away in the sea of humanity around her. "Where are we?" she asked.

"Um… the holodeck?" Adam replied, a bit sarcastically.

Allura shot him a look. "I mean, where is _this_?" she asked, gesturing around her.

Driscoll smiled. "Welcome to War Memorial Auditorium. 'The Aud', as we call it here in Buffalo."

Allura nodded as Adam led her away through the complex. She was constantly assaulted by the noise of the crowd, the smell of all kinds of food, and the thrill of a new experience, even if it was somewhat artificial.

As she walked, she took a handbill from an usher. "Buffalo Sabres vs. Soviet Wings," it said. She showed the paper to Adam. "Yeah, awesome game. Really something to see." He told her a little bit about the Cold War tensions, and what made this game so rare an event.

Shortly, they arrived at their seats. They were near center ice, about 20 rows up, so they had a good view of the action. The air was chilly now that they were nearer the ice. Several skaters were on the ice now, some in red, others in white, warming up for the game. Adam pointed out a trio off in a corner. "See them? Eleven, Seven, and Fourteen? That's the French Connection, one of the best scoring lines of all time. Perreault, Martin, and Robert. You'll see what I mean later."

Allura looked at him knowingly. "You really like this game."

"Next best thing to flying," Adam said with a grin. "Well, and dinosaurs. Tied for second."

Allura laughed. "Dinosaurs?"

Adam smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, I'm a dino-nut. How do you think I got my call-sign?"

"You named yourself after a hobby?"

Now it was Adam's turn to laugh. "No, you don't give yourself a call sign. It's given to you. Usually, it's a joke about your name or something boneheaded you did. Frequently tasteless, usually hated."

"Well, 'Dinoman' isn't that bad."

"I was a bit younger at the time. The grown-ups were being nice."

"Wait, you have to tell me about this one."

"Well…" he started, when suddenly, the lights dimmed. "Later. Game's starting."

After the national anthems were sung, a young woman with a sword came out onto the ice and skated around, flipping and twirling the blade in an elaborate series of tricks to Katchaturian's "Sabre Dance." At the end of the routine, she slid the sword from center ice all the way into the goal net, and the crowd roared. The atmosphere was so electric, Allura forgot she was in a simulation and joined Adam and the holographic crowd chanting, "Let's go, Buf-fa-lo!" as the teams lined up at center ice.

Once the game got underway and the din subsided a bit, Adam picked up where he left off, nearly yelling to be heard over the crowd. "In another dimension, I'm something of an engineering whiz. Not so much anywhere else, but…"

"Wait, you have different talents in different dimensions?"

"Sort of. More like some are better than others, but that's a whole 'nother story. Anyways, I designed this propulsion system, which the navy bought to use on an experimental ship. It was a kind of battleship/submarine/carrier deal called _Peacekeeper_. So, when it was built, they had me go along on the shakedown to babysit the engines. They were using modified Mustangs as recon birds, testing the feasibility of long-range propeller floatplanes as recon birds in the modern Navy." Suddenly, a horn blared, and the air shook as the crowd cheered and leapt to their feet.

"What happened?" Allura asked.

Driscoll grinned at her as he cheered with the crowd. "We scored. Guevremont just put one in the Russkies' net!"

A few minutes later, the crowd calmed, and play had resumed. "So, anyway," he continued, "I ended up learning to fly one of those 'Stangs, and after they re-equipped with long-range helos, I was able to convert part of my royalty payment and get that bird, and it became _Thunderwing_. Anyway, I was almost always carrying a dinosaur book with me, so I became the 'dino-kid' to the pilots, and that turned into 'Dinoman' when I learned to fly."

Allura nodded and turned back to the game. The line Adam had told her about was on the ice, and she watched as one of the defensemen passed the puck to number eleven, who beat the Russian goalie for the Sabres' second goal of the night. The crowd roared again, and afterward, Adam began telling her about the gameplay and the different positions and what they did.

After the first period, Adam bought some popcorn from a vendor. Turning back to Allura as they munched and watched the Zamboni run around the rink, Adam asked, "What about you? What do you like to do in your spare time?"

"Well, I like listening to music, and dancing. I also enjoy a good book every now and again, especially history. It's so fascinating, reading about the past, taking pride in the triumphs and learning from the mistakes of those who came before you."

Adam nodded, and was about to say something, when the man behind him jostled him, causing him to spill the popcorn into Allura's lap, smearing butter on her legs.

"No, it's all right. It wasn't your fault. You don't have to apologize," Allura said, brushing the offending kernels onto the ground.

Adam looked at her. "How did you...?"

Allura's eyes went wide like the proverbial deer in the headlights. _Did I just say that out loud? How could I be so careless?_

When Allura didn't reply, Adam tried to draw her out. "Ally, are you telepathic?"

She knew she could just lie, just say she knew he'd apologize, maybe even make a joke of it, but she didn't want to. She knew her secret would come out sooner or later, but she'd wanted it to be at a time of her choosing.

"Not exactly," she said finally. "You know my father had magic, and he used it to help him create the Lions after Voltron was broken up."

"Yeah, I know."

"Well, I guess you could say it runs in the family. I have powers too, but they're weak. Just starting to come out, really. Everyone thinks magic is absolute. Either you have it or you don't. But it's not that way at all. It has to grow and develop, just like the person using it.

"Right now, I have an empathic ability. I can share thoughts and feelings with others. But I don't much, because everyone has a right to keep those things to themselves."

"So that was a slip?" Adam asked. He had by now completely forgotten the game, and never even noticed the second period starting.

"Yes. I can control it most of the time, but sometimes…"

Adam nodded. He was a bit surprised, to say the least. "It's okay. Nobody starts off perfect. Hell, I almost spun _Thunderwing_ in the first time I took off."

"So you're not mad?"

Adam smiled devilishly. "Why don't you tell me?"

Allura smiled back and, tentatively, opened up to him. What she felt was not anger, but fascination and acceptance, and also curiosity. "And yes, I can do other things," she told him. "I can move small objects when I really try."

Adam's voice became higher-pitched and croaky, almost hoarse as he said, "Hm. Try not. _Do_ or do not. There is no try."

Allura laughed as a loud _boo_ erupted from the crowd, signaling a goal by the Soviets.

"Think you can put the puck in the Russkies' net for us?" Adam asked in jest.

Suddenly, the Captain's combadge chirped. "_Bridge to Captain Driscoll_."

Driscoll tapped the badge hidden beneath his Perreault jersey. "Driscoll here. Go ahead, Gredar."

"_We are receiving a message on the Alliance channels that may interest you._"

"Okay, I'll be right there. Driscoll out." He turned to the Princess. "Duty calls," he said with a shrug. "You can stay here if you want to finish watching the game."

Allura considered it a moment. She was enjoying her time with Adam, and she was also enjoying not being bored. "No, I'll come with you," she said finally. "We can finish this later, can't we?"

Adam smiled. "Sure thing. Computer, save program," he said. At his command, the raucousness of The Aud was replaced with the nondescript yellow-on-black grid of the holodeck.

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Arriving on the bridge, they saw Gredar waiting for them by the tactical station. "Report, Commander."

"Lieutenant?" Gredar rasped, deferring to Lieutenant Kelley, the Gamma shift tactical officer.

According to Alliance research communications, there's a supernova imminent in sector D-48. Exact coordinates place it in the uninhabited star system D-48-7," said Kelley.

Driscoll nodded.

"D-48 is in Doom space," said Allura.

Driscoll looked at her. "Yeah, but not by much. And after that invasion fiasco, they're a bit light on ships right now." He leaned in and tapped in a series of commands, calling up a tactical chart of the area. "One of the fleets they used was drawn from this area," he said, pointing to a region near sector D-48. "Most of their fleets have been pulled back to cover more vital assets." He looked at Gredar. "What do you think?"

"An acceptable risk," the Gorn hissed.

"We keep our sensors sweeping, we should have plenty of time to run for it if things heat up." He turned to Allura. "Want us to beam you to the castle until we get back?"

Allura appeared to consider it a moment before asking, "Permission to come along, Captain?"

Driscoll smiled. "Granted, Your Highness." He looked up at the tactical officer, "Mr. Kelley, send these coordinates to the helm." He turned away and began moving around the tactical station toward his command chair. "Science officer, configure sensors and probes to monitor the supernova. Helmsman, lay in a course to these coordinates, all ahead warp 8, and stand by. Kelley, notify Castle Control of our departure and destination."

The activity level on the bridge spiked instantly as the normally-placid night shift sprang to life, making the ship ready to depart.

"Captain, Coran wants to speak with you," Kelley said.

"I figured he would. Onscreen."

As soon as the connection was established, Coran said, "Captain, I must insist that the Princess not go with you. It is far too dangerous."

"I disagree. Me and Gredar have both looked at the tactical situation, and there really ain't much danger."

"But if Doom becomes aware of the message as well, they will likely deploy their forces to intercept you."

"I won't risk combat with the Princess aboard, I promise you. But this is a rare scientific opportunity."

"Coran," said Allura, "the castle isn't safe. You've said so yourself. And the starbase isn't ready. If the Captain says he won't fight, then I'll be fine. And I would really like to go."

Coran frowned, thinking it over a moment, then sighed. "Very well. If I have your assurance, Captain, that you will avoid combat."

"As long as we can run, we won't gun," Driscoll replied.

Coran nodded. "Very well. Safe journey," he said, and the screen switched off.

Driscoll grinned. "O-kay then. Helm, good to go?" he asked.

"Course and speed laid in, awaiting your command, Captain," the helmsman replied.

Driscoll settled into his command chair. "Helm, engage."

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Four hours later, the _Berlin_ arrived in sector D-48. _En route_, the senior officers had taken their stations and the regular gamma shift crew had taken other positions to support the survey mission or left the bridge.

"Approaching the supernova, Captain," said Mordock.

"Okay, guide us in, Mordock," Driscoll replied. "Put us where you want us."

"Six million kilometers would be ideal."

"Okay. Mike, close distance, impulse power, all ahead one-half."

"Aye sir," Lt. Curtis replied.

The ship worked its way in closer, passing the lifeless balls of gas and rock that made up the star's inner solar system. "According to present readings, we have twelve hours until the star goes critical," said Mordock.

"Yellow alert," Gredar ordered.

"Mike, plot us an escape course, warp two."

"Aye, sir."

Allura, standing near the turbolift, tensed a bit at the mention of an escape course, but she was fascinated. Before her was a star in the last minutes of its life, and she was going to see it first hand. Of course, she also knew that from the horrific destruction, new creation would one day spring forth, continuing the eternal cycle of the universe.

"Captain, I'm getting some strange readings…"

"Define 'strange', Mordock."

"The star is highly unstable. More so than it should be at this point."

Driscoll rose and walked over to the Benzite, accompanied by Gredar and Allura. "From these readings, it should be a matter of minutes until the supernova, not hours."

"Is your timing off?"

"No, sir. Despite the anomalous readings, I would still estimate a bit under twelve hours." He turned to look at the two officers. "A probe may help make some sense of these readings."

"Ready your probe, Lieutenant," said Gredar.

"Meanwhile," Driscoll said, turning toward the tactical station, "T.J., boost power to the shields, just in case."

"You got it, Skipper."

Driscoll leaned on the rail, looking toward the screen as the ship closed in on the dying star. Allura saw the look of concern on his face and asked quietly, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. What I didn't tell Coran was that missions like this can be as dangerous as combat. Starfleet has lost its share of ships to supernovae and black holes and such."

"And the readings bother you."

"Yeah, some. It's very unusual. But that's why we're here, to figure out _why_." He smiled. "It'll be okay."

"Probe ready," Jacobs announced.

"Fire away."

Jacobs touched a control on her console and a beep confirmed the probe's deployment. They watched on the screen as the blue glow of the probe's engines receded toward the star.

"Probe telemetry is good," Mordock reported. "Receiving data."

The probe traveled on for a few moments longer. "Hm. Captain, it almost appears that..."

Suddenly, a laser bolt shot out of nowhere and destroyed the probe.

"Doom starship bearing zero-one-four!" Jacobs announced.

"Red alert, all hands to battle stations!" Driscoll ordered. "Helm come about."

"Sir, the Doom vessel is hailing," Jacobs reported.

Driscoll paused. That was unusual. Doom ships normally shot first and asked questions later.

"Skipper, the ship appears to be a science vessel," Jacobs continued. "I'm reading a large number of sensor arrays, some light weapons…"

"Helm, heave-to. Put the Doomies on, T.J."

On the main viewer, a nondescript, gray bridge appeared, with the commander seated in the center. Unlike other ships, the captain was not on an elevated throne. In fact, the bridge of this ship was small, and looked more like that of the _Berlin_.

"This is Captain Adam Driscoll of the _USS Berlin_."

The Drule commander nodded, his yellow eyes standing out against his midnight blue face. "I am Captain Zolon. My crew and I are here to study the supernova. Nothing more."

"Same here," Driscoll replied. "But if you're not here to fight, why'd you destroy our probe?"

"This star has recently absorbed a quantity of haloxynon gas. It has been made the outer layers unstable and prone to discharges of plasma and radiation. We sent our own probe earlier and were barely able to escape the blast."

"In that case, thanks for the help."

Zolon sneered at Driscoll. "Don't be a fool, boy. You are still the enemy. I acted out of concern for my own ship, not you."

Driscoll glowered back, his diplomatic courtesy disappearing as he replied, "I'll remember that, Commander, and make sure you don't interfere with us again, or I'll forget about our mutual interest. Driscoll out."

Driscoll turned to Mordock. "Any of that make sense to you?"

"I have never heard of 'haloxynon gas', but it could be unique to this dimension. Nothing I have so far detected would contradict his explanation."

"But, Captain, isn't it novas that absorb materials? Not supernovas?" Lieutenant Singh asked from her post at ops.

"That is usually the case. But not always," said Mordock.

"Okay. Mike, head us back in. T.J., keep an eye on the Doomies. Return to yellow alert, we'll continue as was for now, but at the first sign of trouble, we're outta here."

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_Doom Communications Vessel_

_In orbit of D-48-7_

Commander Zolon watched the _Berlin_ close in on the star. Very soon, it would be time to spring the trap and eliminate the Starfleet meddlers.

But it had been close. If that probe had gotten much closer to the star, the game would have been up. Luckily, some quick shooting and quicker thinking had prevented that. As long as they could continue feeding false readings to the starship's sensors, they could catch the Federation ship unprepared.

"Is the support group in position?" Zolon asked.

"Yes, Commander. They await your orders.

Zolon grinned. Very soon, it would begin.

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_USS Berlin_

"Skipper?" Jacobs called.

"Yeah?" Driscoll moved over to the tactical station. "Whatcha got?"

"I've been watching that alleged science vessel. They're putting out a lot of signals, but not many sensor scans." She brought up a list of frequencies that the ship was emitting. Most were in sensor bandwidths, but few were directed at the star. "I don't think it's a science ship at all."

By now, Allura and Gredar had arrived at the tactical station, and were listening intently to Jacobs' report. "Your assessment, Commander?" Gredar asked.

"Commo ship," said Jacobs.

Driscoll glanced at the spindly ship on the screen. "Okay. Here's the plan. Anyone not involved with monitoring the supernova, go to battle stations. Stand by on weapons. Act casual, but be ready," he said, looking at his officers.

"Aye, sir," said Gredar.

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_Doom Communications Vessel_

From his bridge, Commander Zolon studied the starship before him, seemingly unaware of what he had in store. His only regret was that the support group was mostly fighters. After losing so many warships, command would only commit the minimum necessary to support the fighter operations. But it would not matter. They only needed to hold the starship in range so they could unleash their main weapon.

"All ships, attack!"

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_USS Berlin_

At once, the science and tactical consoles beeped in alarm, and the screen erupted in static and snow. "What the hell?" Driscoll said, turning to Jacobs. "What just happened?"

"All sensors jammed," Jacobs replied. "Unable to break through."

"Mike, get us out of here," Driscoll ordered.

Suddenly, she ship shook, and nobody had to wonder about the cause.

"Fire phasers, defensive pattern India."

"Captain," said Curtis, "without sensors, it's going to be hard to navigate."

Driscoll settled tensely into his command chair. "Best guess, Mike. Use your nav logs and extrapolate."

"Aye, sir."

As the ship shook under another assault, Adam looked back. "Allura, you'd be safer in your cabin."

"Adam, I…"

"Ally, go. I ain't bringing you back to Arus in pieces." As if to emphasize his order, a blast struck near the bridge, shaking everyone. Adam shot her a look, and she disappeared into the turbolift.

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_Doom Communications Vessel_

Zolon could feel his victory at hand. Without sensors to guide her, the _Berlin_ was limping away, unable to proceed at speed for fear of colliding with something. Her random attempts at defense had scored only a handful of the dozens of fighters buzzing round her like angry hornets.

"Move us into position. Prepare to launch."

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_USS Berlin_

Allura had stepped into the turbolift, but she wasn't headed for her cabin. With the sensors out, unable to navigate or target weapons, it was only a matter of time until the shields fell. And after that…

She had quickly realized what she had to do. There was no way she was going down without a fight.

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The ship rocked again, and Driscoll turned to Mordock. "Any luck with those sensors?"

"Nothing, sir. I cannot get through the interference."

"Dammit. Mike, begin evasive maneuvers. Maybe we can dodge a few of these losers."

"Aye, sir."

But Driscoll knew the effect would be negligible. Without their sensors, they were done for.

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Allura dashed across the shuttlebay, grateful that all the techs were busy with the shuttles, or manning battle stations elsewhere on the ship. She headed for the middle of the bay, where a certain warbird stood ready, wings folded like a brooding eagle ready to strike.

Checking once more that nobody was looking, she climbed up onto the wing. _I hope I know what I'm doing._

She looked around _Thunderwing_'s cockpit, trying to remember what she could from watching Adam on those times they flew together, and what she had seen when she'd helped him do maintenance. _Batteries, those need to be on… and the generators_, she mused.

The ship shook again, pitching her to the side of the cockpit, and she let out a little yelp as she scuffed her knuckles against a control box.

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Ensign Falstaff was sitting in the _Dorothy_, one of the _Berlin_'s type-9 shuttles, waiting for the dreaded order to abandon ship, when his job would be to fly the shuttle away from the ship as soon as it was filled.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw _Thunderwing_ unfold its wings. _Go get 'em, Captain_, he thought. But when he looked at the cockpit, it wasn't Driscoll he saw there.

_What the…?_

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Searching around the cockpit, Allura had found most of the controls. How she knew that, she wasn't sure. She just knew. _Fuel on, levers set to subsonic flight for takeoff…_

"Hey! Get away from there!" someone yelled. Allura looked up, startled, as a man climbed up on the wing, then was nearly thrown off as another blast hit the ship. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Saving this ship," Allura snapped back. "The sensors are out, and we can't see to fly or shoot." Surprised, Falstaff stepped back. "If I can take out that communication ship, we can make it."

Falstaff looked at her a long moment, then turned away and jumped off the wing.

Allura watched him leave, then turned back to the cockpit, trying to finish the start sequence and get airborne as the ship shuddered again and an alarm rang out somewhere nearby. Another blast, and the lights flickered.

"Here, Princess." Allura tuned to see the ensign had returned, now holding Adam's helmet and mask. She quickly put them on while Falstaff connected the radio and oxygen lines, and helped her strap in. _Booster on… primer… start!_

The engine coughed and sputtered to life. It had been barely two minutes since she entered the shuttlebay, but it felt like hours.

Falstaff jumped down as Allura closed the canopy, and headed for the shuttlebay door controls.

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"Captain! Shuttlebay doors are opening!" Lt. Singh reported.

"What? Onscreen!"

The darkened viewscreen came on, showing a picture inside the shuttlebay as _Thunderwing_ yawed to the left, before recovering and heading out of the shuttlebay.

"Driscoll to _Thunderwing_, pilot, identify yourself!"

"_It's me, Adam_."

"Allura? What do you think you're doing? Get that plane back here!"

The Princess didn't reply.

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_Doom Communications Vessel_

"Commander, the starship has launched a fighter."

"Only one?" Zolon asked.

"Yes, sir."

Zolon laughed. "How pathetic! Ignore it. Concentrate all fire on the ship. Is the weapon ready?"

"Thirty seconds to optimum position, sir."

"Very good." In thirty seconds, they could fire their missile into the star, causing a plasma fountain that would engulf the ship, destroying it once and for all.

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_Thunderwing_

_Near USS Berlin_

Allura banked into a turn. Unfamiliar with the light feel of the Mustang's controls she overcompensated on leveling out and rolled the airplane. As soon as she'd shifted into impulse, the instruments and controls had completely changed, covered by holographic instrumentation. Faced with the unfamiliar controls, Allura focused on the stick, throttle, and pedals.

Looking around, she saw the fighters attacking the starship, one after another rushing in, slashing with its lasers, and dashing away. But they could wait.

Luckily, her sensors hadn't been jammed yet, and she was able to find the Doom Communications ship. She banked towards it, and accelerated for her attack.

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_USS Berlin_

"Captain, I have an idea."

"Let's hear it," Driscoll said, grabbing the armrests of his chair as the ship bucked again.

"Your fighter's sensors aren't being jammed. If we can feed its sensor data into our systems…"

"Do it, Mordock," Driscoll cut in. "T.J., ready phasers. It's time to clear the air."

"Aye, sir."

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_Thunderwing_

Looking around the cockpit, Allura located the rocket controls and set them for "salvo". A glowing, orange reticle settled on the Doom ship and began to blink. _I guess that means I'm locked on_.

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_Doom Communications Vessel_

"Commander Zolon, the fighter is locking weapons."

"Enough of this," said Zolon. "Destroy it now. Are we in position for launch?"

"Yes, Commander. Just now," the weapons officer replied.

"Then what are you waiting for? Fire!"

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_Thunderwing_

Closing in on the Doom ship, Allura was suddenly bracketed by laser fire, several blasts striking the nose and wings and flaring against the shields. She gritted her teeth, staring through the gunsight as she bore down on the Doom ship.

Suddenly, a module split off the bottom of the ship and a huge engine ignited, propelling it toward the star.

Allura launched the rockets and turned away, trying to chase down the missile as laser fire burst around her and slashed at her wings and fuselage.

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_USS Berlin_

On the bridge , the main veiwer screen cleared and Driscoll saw the communications ship, six huge, burning wounds in its hull where _Thunderwing_'s rockets had struck.

"All sensors coming online," Singh reported.

Adam couldn't help but smile. _Good job, Ally._ "T.J., clear those fighters out. Helm, give us some _real_ evasive maneuvers. Mordock, what is that thing?" he asked, pointing at the missile rushing inexorably toward the star.

"Scanning… Sensors show a large amount of ionized topaz."

"How large?" Gredar hissed.

"Ten kilotons."

That meant they didn't dare destroy it. Not at this range. The shockwave alone would smash them like an egg.

"It's on a direct course for the supernova." Mordock added, then turned to Driscoll. "Captain, supernova in progress."

"They must have been jamming us all the time," Driscoll realized. "Helm, get us out of here. All ahead warp five. Driscoll to _Thunderwing_."

"_Allura here_."

"Firewall everything now. Follow us out of the system. The star's about to blow."

"_Roger, on my way_."

"Mike, why are we still here?"

The fighter zoomed by, joining up with the starship as both streaked into warp.

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_Doom Communications Vessel_

The huge missile continued on its course. Commander Zolon watched from his crippled bridge as it plunged through the corona, into the star itself, and detonated.

The shockwave spread across the surface like ripples on a pond, igniting geysers of flaming plasma and jets of radiation as it spread. Then, the star began to swell, slowly at first, but with increasing speed.

Zolon had just enough time to realize the irony of the situation as the expanding star engulfed his ship, incinerating it instantly.

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_Thunderwing_

_Outer edge of star system D-48-7_

The _Berlin_ and _Thunderwing_ came out of warp just outside the system. Allura watched off the starboard wing as the star exploded, casting itself layer by layer into space. It was an incredible sight. One day, there would be a planetary nebula here, and the shockwaves would stir other clumps of gas and dust, causing them to condense into new systems.

"Berlin _to_ Thunderwing_, prepare to come aboard_."

"Roger."

"_Allura… Did you ever pick up the gear_?"

"What gear?"

"_The wheels._"

"Oh." She thought a moment, looking around the cockpit, but didn't remember seeing a control for the landing gear. Finally, she saw it, down near her left knee, set in the "down and locked" position. "Um, I don't think so."

She heard Adam sigh. "_All right. We'll pull you aboard in a minute. _Berlin_ out_."

As the tractor beam locked on, Allura looked out at the wing, and saw the scorches where the Doom lasers had gotten through the shields. _Oh, boy, Adam's gonna kill me._

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_USS Berlin_

As the plane came to a stop in the shuttlebay, Adam watched Allura fumble around in the cockpit, and a moment later, the engine came to a stop and Allura rolled back the canopy. He waited until she jumped down to the deck before he spoke. Very calmly, as though addressing a member of his crew, he said, "Princess, I'd like to speak with you in my ready room, please."

Allura nodded. "All right. I'll be there in a few minutes."

Driscoll nodded and turned to leave. He'd noticed the laser burns on his plane, but he'd deal with that later.

On his way out, Ensign Falstaff walked up to him. "Sir, it's partly my fault. I gave her your gear and helped her get strapped in and take off."

Driscoll regarded him critically. "You helped her, Ensign?"

"Yes, sir."

Driscoll nodded. "Come with me."

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Ten minutes later, Driscoll, Allura, and Falstaff gathered in the Captain's ready room.

"Sir," said Falstaff, standing at attention while Allura took a seat in front of the desk. "Before we start, I just want to say that I will take full responsibility for what happened. I was in charge of the shuttlebay, and I should have kept the Princess from taking your fighter."

"Damned straight," Driscoll replied hotly, standing in front of his desk. "You aided and abetted in the unauthorized use of property. Theft, in other words. Because of your actions, my plane looks like it's been painted with charcoal! How long have you been in Starfleet, Ensign?" Allura couldn't believe that Adam was attacking Falstaff like this, but knew better than to question him in front of his crewman.

"Four years, sir."

"Four years, and you pull a stunt like this. What do you have to say for yourself?" Driscoll asked, taking a step toward Falstaff.

"Nothing, sir."

"'Nothing'," Driscoll repeated. "Well, I'm afraid you leave me no choice but to enter a commendation into your file for quick thinking and prompt action directly contributing to saving this ship from certain destruction."

Falstaff was dumbstruck.

"Ensign, we were about ten seconds from dead when we warped out. If you hadn't helped the Princess when you did, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now. Thank you."

"Um, thank you, Captain."

"And you know, I think you're due for a promotion, Ensign. Four years is too long for anyone to be an ensign. I'll issue the papers this evening."

"Thank you, sir," Falstaff said again.

"You're welcome. Dismissed, Lieutenant."

Falstaff nodded. "Captain." He turned to Allura. "Highness." Then he spun on his heel and left the room.

Adam took a seat next to Allura. Staring at the wall, he said, "Well, Coran and Nanny are gonna have my hide. I promised them no combat at all, and there you are in the thick of it." He looked her in the eye. "Why?"

"I wanted to help. You know me, Adam. I hate standing by and doing nothing. I thought of a way I could help you. I knew that if I could disable that ship, your sensors would be clear, and you could get away."

"You could have been killed. You almost piled _Thunderwing_ into the bulkhead, Ally. You wouldn't be the first green pilot to come to grief in a '51."

Allura looked at him coolly. "I'm not afraid to die helping others. Or were you more worried about your plane?"

"Now that hurt, Ally. That really hurt." He sighed. "But I suppose I could have said that better. Look, the thing is, I promised Coran you'd be safe." He laughed, "And you damn-near made a liar out of me.

"You know, you helped us just by getting airborne? We piggybacked off _Thunder_'s sensors to fight off those Stingers."

"See, you needed me."

"Yeah, we did, Allura. Woulda' been nice if you'd remembered to get the gear up, but... Fact is, with no formal training, you got that plane up, fought, and came back in one piece. That's no small thing." He rose and walked around his desk, sitting down in his own chair. "If you were military, I'd give you a commendation, too. But since I can't…" He looked at her, very seriously, and said, "If you want, I'll teach you to fly her."

"_Thunderwing_?"

"Yeah."

Allura didn't even give it a second thought. "Yes, I'd love that," she replied, surprised that Adam would willingly let anyone fly his beloved plane. She'd always liked flying with Adam, and after her brief flight in the Mustang, she was very excited about the possibility of getting back in the pilot's seat. Her short combat hop had impressed her far more than the brief, straight-and-level flight Adam had allowed her a few weeks before, and she definitely wanted more.

Adam smiled. "Okay, then. While you're here, I'll start teaching you the arts of stick and rudder. But on one condition."

"What's that?" She asked suspiciously.

Adam's smile widened into a grin. "You gotta teach me how to handle a Lion."

Allura laughed. Now that made a bit more sense. "Deal."

The Captain nodded and stood. "All right. Well, then, I'd suggest you get some rest. It'll be morning before we get back to Arus."

"All right," Allura said, rising. "Good night, then."

"'Night, Ally."

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_For those of you who might be interested, the Sabres won that game 12-6, the only NHL team to beat the Wings during that series. And yes, I'm well aware they got wasted by the Senators in the playoffs, but let's not go there, shall we?_

_Also, in case you haven't heard, the Fleet of Doom special is now available on DVD from the official Voltron website, and there are reports of a completed script for a live-action Voltron movie._


	5. Home Again

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything that belongs to WEP or CBS/Paramount, so don't sue me. I'm not making any money off this anyway. What I do own are the crew of the _Berlin_, except Mordock and Scotty, the fighter _Thunderwing,_ and the story itself._

_I apologize again for the lateness of the updates. Good news is that chapter 6 is already in progress, and I should be able to update better now that things are settling down._

Star Tron: The Retreat

Chapter 5: Home Again

_Planet Arus_

Dawn was just breaking over the Castle of Lions when four of the Voltron Lions took to the sky for their daily practice routine. Keith had considered calling off the practice, but, much to the disappointment of the rest of the team, he decided to use Allura's absence as an opportunity for the team to practice tactics for covering a downed squad mate. They were using a small rocky outcrop as the object to be defended, and modified target drones as attackers.

"Watch out, Pidge, you're leaving the north flank open!" Keith warned as two drones swooped in, peppering the area around the outcrop with laser fire.

"Right, sorry," the boy replied, guiding Green Lion into a sharp turn and driving the drones off.

"Don't be sorry, Pidge, get it right!" Keith chided.

"Okay, okay," said Pidge.

Three more drones dropped down from the opposite direction. Lance reacted immediately. "Lion Dagger!" he announced, the weapon forming in Red Lion's mouth at his command. Red Lion rushed upward in a steep climb, shredding the oncoming drones before they could get into position to fire.

"That's what it should look like, Lance. Nice work."

"Of course," Lance preened.

"Hey, Keith, don't make his head swell any bigger," Hunk needled.

Lance fired right back, "Speaking of things getting bigger, how about saving some dessert for the rest of us tonight, Hunk?"

"Cool it, you two," Keith said. "Stay focused."

The pair of drones Pidge had chased off were making another run, low on the deck. Hunk immediately dropped to the ground beside the rocks and opened fire with his plasma cannon, incinerating the two attackers.

"Two more coming down, Hunk, watch it," Pidge warned.

Suddenly, there was a glint of sunlight on metal streaking through the formation of Lions, and the two drones Pidge had seen were torn apart in a hail of crimson fire. "Will you guys ever just shut up and shoot? God, it's like a bunch of old dudes in committee or something."

Looking around, Keith watched _Thunderwing _bank around hard, vapor trails streaming from its wing tips, and join up beside him. "Having fun there, boss?"

"It never stops," Keith replied. He studied the scorches on the fighter's wings and fuselage, wondering where they came from.

"Hey, Dinoman, get too close to that supernova?" Lance asked as the rest of the Lions formed up.

"Yeah, little bit," Adam replied tersely.

Knowing that practice was effectively ended, Keith said, "Okay, I guess that's enough for today, guys. Let's head home."

Once the group was on its way back toward the castle, Keith switched to a private channel. "So where's the Princess?" he asked Driscoll.

"Back at the castle. Coran needed to see her about something."

"Would that have anything to do with those scorches?"

"You trying to say something there, boss?"

"Adam, we both know you're not dumb enough to fly so close to an exploding star that you get burned by it."

"Yeah, okay. There was a little trouble. But it's fine. We dealt with it." Driscoll was momentarily surprised by his own evasiveness. What was he afraid of from Keith? Keith wasn't Starfleet, and was lower-ranked to boot.

"You told Coran you wouldn't get into combat," Keith pressed. While relieved to hear that Allura was safe, he nonetheless wanted to hear what had happened.

"Running wasn't an option. Look, if you want answers, we'll talk later. We gotta land." Keith looked up and, sure enough, they were nearly at the castle, and the others had already broken away to land their Lions.

"Completely unacceptable," Nanny huffed. "You gave your word, Captain, that you would not fight."

"I said if we could run. They took out our sensors. We were as likely to run into an asteroid or a fighter as out into clear space."

"But you must have had charts…" Keith said.

As soon as Adam and Keith had landed, they had been summoned to the Control Room. Adam was being grilled for engaging in combat with the Princess aboard the ship.

Adam looked at Keith. "Charts with no data on orbital velocities, gravitational flow, asteroids, debris… It would have been a guessing game. Especially at warp. I wasn't about to risk it."

"But you risked the Princess' life by letting her take your fighter," Nanny huffed.

"He didn't let me take it, Nanny. I stole it."

Nanny's face blanched in horror. "I knew it! Associating with those ruffians has done you no good whatsoever! What would your poor father think of his only daughter acting like a common street thief?"

Driscoll turned to Keith, his eyes wide in surprise. "Dude, did she just say what I think she said?" he asked, a touch of anger creeping into his voice. Keith merely nodded.

"She also saved the ship and returned the Captain's fighter and herself in one piece," Coran interjected. His was always the voice of reason in such situations, and it was a welcome sound now. "And I don't see any way that the Captain could have acted any differently and still kept his ship and the Princess safe."

"He could have stayed here!"

"Our mission is not to hide at home where it's safe, Nanny," Driscoll said with forced calm. "Going to monitor that supernova was a calculated risk, like _everything we do_. It's just this time our calculations were off."

Nanny just huffed. "If the repairs to the castle weren't still going on, I'd lock you in your room, young lady," she said to Allura.

"And just what do you think gives you that right?" Adam said, his cool slipping.

"Her position as Royal Governess," said Coran. "And you would do well to remember that, Captain. Until she comes of age, the Princess is still under the care and thus the authority of Nanny."

"Thank you, Coran. Now, young lady…"

"Within reason…" Coran quickly added, stopping Nanny mid-sentence. Both Keith and Adam were glad for that, as the Prime Minister had very nearly given Nanny the _carte blanche_ she had always sought with Allura's upbringing and conduct.

"Frankly, if Allura were military, she'd be up for a medal right now, doing what she did." Adam put in. "While I don't like how reckless it was, the fact is that she saved my ship and crew."

Keith paused a moment at that statement, thinking. But he brushed the thought aside. There would be time to address that later.

"But the fact remains that Allura is not military, and thus should not be treated as though she is," Coran said. "She is a guest aboard your ship, and you should make sure your crew understands that."

"They do. And that only makes them more grateful for what she did."

As Adam said that, Keith saw his eyes briefly flash to Allura's. Something passed between them then, and was gone as Coran cleared his throat.

"I think the matter has been given enough of our time. Allura is safe, and Zarkon's force was dealt with without loss of life. Though I would encourage more thought on your part in the future, Captain."

Driscoll nodded, recognizing Coran's attempts to end the discussion on a placid note for what they were. "Agreed."

Coran nodded and went to the main console, signaling the end of the discussion. Nanny spun on her heel and left, and Adam turned to Allura. "You coming back now?"

"I need some things from my chambers," she replied.

"Okay. Give a shout when you're ready," said Adam, walking to the other side of the room and calling for his own beam out.

Allura started out of the chamber, and Keith wasn't far behind. As they got out into the corridor, Keith called, "Princess, wait up a second."

Allura stopped and turned. "What is it, Keith?"

"I just wanted to walk you to your room, if that's all right."

Allura smiled. "Of course."

The two walked silently down the corridor for a minute before Keith asked, "So how is it up there?"

Allura turned to look at him as she walked. "It's all right. A little boring. Well, _really_ boring, but it's nice. Adam showed me the holodecks, so I think I'll spend some time there."

Keith nodded. "You know, we all miss you down here. The castle's not the same without you around." Allura looked at him, a slight smile curling her lips. "I mean, Lance has been especially obnoxious without you to refine his jokes on," Keith spluttered quickly.

Allura laughed. "I'll bet he has. Some of those jokes of his are hard on the ears."

"And Pidge notices your absence too," Keith continued, trying to seem detached and analytical.

"What about you?"

Keith, caught off guard, actually missed a step. "Uh, well…" Allura giggled at his complete, if brief, loss of composure. He saw his chance. This was the best opportunity he'd ever had, and if he couldn't capitalize now…

But before he could even open his mouth, he heard footsteps coming down the hall, followed immediately by Nanny's voice. "Ach, Princess! I had no idea you were coming down, or I would have walked with you myself."

Taking note for the first time of where he was, Keith realized that he was only a dozen yards from the Princess' chambers. He turned back to the two women as Nanny said, "Thank you for escorting her, Commander. You may go now."

Allura looked at Nanny in protest, but before she could say anything, Keith replied. "My pleasure, Nanny. I'll see you later, Princess."

"Bye, Keith," Allura replied as the Commander spun on his heel and left.

Allura watched him go, only half-listening as Nanny went off into a lecture of how she should dress aboard the _Berlin_. As she headed into her chambers, she smiled to herself. Those last few minutes with Keith had been most telling indeed.

_Castle Doom  
__Planet Doom_

"It would seem that you were wrong again, old witch," Zarkon sneered down from his throne. Haggar bowed humbly before him on the floor below. "Once again, your schemes have failed me, and the _Berlin_ has escaped, along with the Princess.

"But sire, it was not my plan that failed. The fault lies with the man you chose to command this mission. My missile worked as planned."

Zarkon paused. He couldn't deny that the witch had a point. Their own sensor networks had observed the destruction of D-48-7, and the functioning of the torpedo had been verified by the fighter support ships.

"This is most frustrating, Haggar," said Zarkon. "Princess Allura is proving to be a most difficult target, who has disgustingly good luck in avoiding our best maneuvers." He looked pointedly at the sorceress. "I think it's time we tried a more conventional approach."

"How do you mean, Sire?"

"We put her in a situation where she will not want to flee, but will instead be compelled to come to us."

Haggar's blue cat yowled at her feet, announcing its presence for the first time during that meeting, as an evil glint sparked in Haggar's eye. "Ah, yes, I understand perfectly, King Zarkon. And I believe I have just the thing for you."

Zarkon smiled evilly. "You always do, Haggar. Just see to it that it knows what its primary target is."

Haggar bowed. "As you command, Sire."

_USS Berlin  
Orbiting Arus_

After collecting a few new sets of clothes from her rooms, as well as some books and work that needed her attention, Allura had returned to the starship. As she walked from the transporter room to her cabin, though, she noticed something different. Whenever she passed a crewman in the corridor, they greeted her with a warm smile and a "Good morning" or a friendly hello. Not at all like the impersonal politeness she'd encountered since she'd come aboard.

Walking into her cabin, she found that the trunks containing her things from the castle had already been delivered, and the clothes and papers she'd first brought aboard had been removed. For a moment, she was a bit exasperated. Why was Nanny so determined that she not be seen in the same outfit more than once? That was one reason she liked her jumpsuit so much. She had three that were just the same, but they all looked alike, and it drove Nanny nuts sometimes.

As she looked around, she decided that she didn't feel much like staying in her cabin right now. Going to the holodeck with Adam yesterday had made her realize that there was still plenty she could do on the ship, and with Nanny not riding herd on her, why shouldn't she enjoy some "me-time"?

She headed out and walked around the ship for a while, taking note of whatever drew her interest. After a few minutes, she came to a large set of wood-and-glass doors, etched with the Federation insignia. A placard read, "_Die Brauhoff_". She didn't speak German, but she was intrigued nonetheless, and went in.

What she found was a lounge of sorts, with a bar and a number of tables. Some were occupied, and there were two crewmen talking quietly at the bar, but the place was mostly empty. She walked up to the end of the bar, and a blue-skinned, bald man with a broad smile came over to her. "What's your pleasure, Princess?"

She looked at him a moment, considering what she should order, and then suddenly realized that she didn't know what they offered! "Do you have Helenian Red Tea?"

"Is that an Arusian drink?"

"Yes."

"I'll see what I can do," the bartender replied, shuffling to the replicator in the far end of the bar.

While she waited for her drink, Allura looked around the room. There were several large windows that looked out toward the rear of the ship, and she could see the warp nacelles outside. On one wall were tally marks and red skulls, like Adam painted on _Thunderwing_ to track his kills. She guessed by the numbers of marks that the tallies were fighters, and the skulls were larger ships.

The bartender came back with a cup of tea. "Try this," he said.

Allura took the cup and sipped obligingly. The tea was warm, sweet, and just a bit tangy. Just the way she liked it. She smiled. "Very good. Thank you."

The bartender nodded. "You're welcome. We actually just got the replicators programmed for Arusian cuisine last week. Captain was very adamant about getting that done."

"Oh, really?" she asked. She found that point very interesting.

"Yes, ma'am."

Allura nodded and took another sip of her tea. "How much do I owe you for the tea?" she asked.

"Oh, nothing. We don't use money in the Federation. Besides, it's the least I can do after what you did for us yesterday."

Allura blushed a bit at the praise. She wasn't really used to being thanked when she fought. Sure, the villagers and townspeople cheered the Force whenever they flew by, but it was different being thanked in person.

She sat quietly, drinking her tea for a few minutes, when she heard someone walk up behind her. "Ah-ha, here you are. Mind if I join you?" Allura looked over her shoulder to see Adam standing there.

"No, please do," said Allura. Adam took the stool beside her and ordered a cup of coffee.

Allura noted a few smudges on his face. "Been working on the plane?"

"Yeah. Mostly just clean-up. For all those scorches, they really didn't do much damage. And speaking of _Thunder_…" He reached into a pocket of his flight suit and pulled out a PADD. Handing it to Allura, he said, "Start reading this over. This is the same stuff I gave Hunk about _Thunderwing_. It'll help you when you get into the cockpit."

Allura nodded. She had almost forgotten about Adam agreeing to teach her how to fly the Mustang. "Speaking of that, when will we be starting?"

"Tomorrow. I'll come and get you after my duty shift ends, if you're not busy, and we'll get started."

"All right. I'll be waiting."

Adam smiled. "Cool. Oh, by the way, it's movie night tonight. Want to come?"

"Hmm, I don't know," Allura replied coyly. "What movie is it?"

"It's an old Clint Eastwood movie. _The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly_."

"Clint who?"

Adam looked at her incredulously. "Okay, if you never ever see another western again, you _gotta _see this one."

"Western? Aren't those the ones with cattle people?"

"'Cowboys', yeah, but this one's a whole lot better."

Allura made a show of thinking it over a moment. Finally, she said, "Sure. Sounds like fun."

"Okay. It starts at 1900, so I'll come get you about 1845."

"All right, then. It's a date."

Adam nodded. "Great," he said as the bartender returned with his coffee. "Thanks, Arx." He turned back to Allura. "Sorry I can't stay, but I'm expecting a call from Nechayev. Why she needs to talk to me live, I dunno, but it must be important."

Allura nodded as Adam rose from the bar, coffee cup in hand. "I'll see you later, then. Have a good time."

Adam just shot her a look and left the room.


	6. Vital Missions

_Yep, I'm back again. Been busier than a cat covering you-know-what on a sidewalk, but I finally managed to get this one up. Gonna try like heck to get updates going sooner, but I've said that before, so... Anyway..._

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything that belongs to WEP or CBS/Paramount, so don't sue me. I'm not making any money off this anyway. What I do own are the crew of the _Berlin_, except Mordock and Scotty, the fighter _Thunderwing,_ and the story itself. _

Star Tron: The Retreat

Chapter 6: Vital Missions

_Planet Doom_

Prince Lotor walked into the throne room of Castle Doom. His father had summoned him for some reason unknown to him, but given the importance of the message implied by the runner, Lotor felt it unwise to keep the King waiting. He may be Lotor's father, but Zarkon had already shown that he had no problem with reminding Lotor of his place in the pecking order.

And it was a place Lotor was coming to loathe. There was a time when Zarkon treated him almost as an equal. When his name brought fear to the hearts of Doom's enemies as readily as his father's. But those days seemed long ago now. With his many and continuing defeats at the hands of Voltron, his name was becoming more ridiculed than revered. He was looked on with more folly than fear these days, and it grated on him. People were quick to discredit and forget even his most notable victories in the face of his current losing streak.

Striding briskly across the chamber, Lotor swept the helmet from his head and knelt in one fluid motion. "You called for me, Father?"

"I did, my son," Zarkon replied. "In light of your most recent defeat against Voltron and his allies, I have decided that a change of venue might do you some good." The king's voice lacked any emotion or inflection. He was not looking for response or defense from Lotor, nor was he rebuking his progeny. He was merely making a statement of fact.

Lotor felt a knot of uneasiness settle into his stomach. He knew of the fate of lesser officers who were offered such "changes of venue". Those that were not sent to a slave camp were assigned to backwater posts where they were forgotten and left to languish, far from any chance either to redeem themselves or cause further problems for the empire. But, knowing that Zarkon's word was law, the thought of objecting was only a brief one. "What duty am I to be assigned?"

"There is a convoy forming to take slaves and supplies to a secret shipyard in deep space. At this base, we are constructing the prototype of our most powerful battleship yet. You will command this supply convoy, and take command of this battleship for its trials."

Lotor couldn't help but smile. This was no disposal assignment. Far from it, it was nearly as important as if he'd been given another invasion fleet and told to capture Arus. It was indeed no worse than a breath of fresh air. It would allow time for him to regroup mentally and refocus on his primary task of defeating Voltron, while still undertaking a task worthy of his skills.

"Rest assured, Father, that convoy will get through safely, and I will prove the worth of this new ship."

"Remember, my anxious son, you are not to seek combat with the battleship. You are only to shake her down. There will be a sizable escort provided, in case any unwanted guests come calling." Zarkon's face was stern. He wanted to make sure Lotor understood exactly what his task was, and not let his ego send him off crusading with an unproven ship. As far as Lotor had fallen, Zarkon still knew his skills were formidable, if a bit untempered. His losses to Voltron, he knew, were the result of overconfidence and bad luck, not a lack of ability. "Your first duty is to protect that ship."

"As you command, Father," Lotor said with a final bow.

As the doors closed behind Lotor with a booming sound that reverberated throughout the cavernous chamber, Zarkon called out into the apparently empty room, "Will that be satisfactory for your purposes, Haggar?"

Haggar stepped out of the shadows in the far corner of the room. Zarkon had asked her to be there when he delivered Lotor's new assignment. It was key to his plans that Lotor be kept as far away from Arus as possible until the problem with Princess Allura had been dealt with. "Indeed it will, Sire. Lotor will be far enough away that by the time word reaches him of our next attack, doing anything to interfere would be out of the question."

Zarkon harrumphed. "If not for the boy's ridiculous pining for that girl, Voltron may have been defeated long ago."

"Indeed, my King, but all that will soon be no more than an unpleasant memory."

"How soon, Haggar?"

"In another day, two at most, my newest pet will be ready for you to unleash on Arus, and then all we will need to do is sit back and enjoy the show," Haggar assured him, stroking her blue cat. "The delay was necessary to ensure that Lotor would be gone before we loaded the robeast and assembled the attack force."

Zarkon nodded. "A wise precaution. Perhaps when he returns, you can use some of your magic to instill some of that wisdom on Lotor."

Hagar cocked her head. "I'm a sorceress, Zarkon, not a miracle worker."

_USS Berlin_

_Orbiting Arus_

Allura walked through the corridor toward Adam's cabin. She knew he'd be getting there any minute, as his duty shift had just ended, and he'd told her that morning at practice, "Meet me at my quarters at 1600 sharp."

So, as she walked down the gray corridor, she mentally checked herself. She'd read over the flight procedures section of the material in the manual Adam had given her, she had her flight suit on, her helmet tucked under her arm. She was ready to go.

She stopped in front of the Captain's cabin, leaning against the bulkhead. He should be down in a few minutes…

Suddenly, the door swooshed open, and Adam stood there, flight jacket slung over his shoulder, helmet in hand, chewing away on a piece of gum. "You're late, Ally," he said with a smile.

"I am not, Captain." Allura replied with feigned haughtiness. "You're early,"

"Meh, Tomato, to-mah-to," Adam replied with a shrug. "You ready?"

Allura nodded. "Ready."

"Okay, let's go."

Adam led the way down to the transporter room. On the way, he held up a PADD, encased in a clear plastic holder, with two straps on it. "Here, take this."

"What is it?"

"It's a kneeboard. They come in handy for keeping track of mission data and such. I've loaded this one with your checklists, hailing channels for the Castle of Lions and the _Berlin, _stuff like that" As she took it and looked it over, he said, "Strap it to your left leg, just above your knee. That way, you can look at it whenever you need it." Allura shrugged, and paused to tie on the kneeboard. She checked it quickly, and saw that it was indeed loaded with a variety of useful information.

They beamed down to the airfield near the Castle, where _Thunderwing_ stood ready on the side of the runway. Driscoll had landed his plane there that morning after practice. He led Allura around the Mustang, showing her how to perform the pre-flight inspection. "Always check, unless there's absolutely no time. And _always_ check again after you land. That way, you won't have problems if the next flight's a scramble."

Finishing the check, Allura climbed up onto the wing, pulling her helmet on while Adam donned his own helmet and jacket. Adam got into the rear cockpit, while Allura slid into the normal pilot's seat. She connected the mask, oxygen, and microphone lines.

"Ally, you there?" Adam asked, testing the intercom.

"Check," she said.

"Got the checklists?"

"I memorized the main checklists."

"Okay, good. Well, start her up."

Again, Allura manipulated the switches and levers in the cockpit, bringing the warbird to life. She again felt that odd sense of being guided, but this time, she knew what she was doing. In a matter of moments, the engine coughed and sputtered to life, its powerful, throbbing sound pounding through both pilots.

"Well, that's good so far. Check your gauges," Adam said.

Allura scanned the engine instruments. "All green. We're ready."

"Okay, here's what we're gonna do. Since you already know the tactics and such, we'll save that for later. The first thing you need to learn is process and procedure, and how to deal with lift. Thrust, weight, and drag you know about from Blue Lion. But Blue's got no wings. It's kept up by thrusters and antigravs. _Thunder_ can fly, for a while, even with the engine off. All lift forces."

"What about space flight? Warp and impulse?"

"Baby steps, Wheels, baby steps."

"'Wheels?'" Allura asked, confused.

Adam grinned. "Your new callsign, courtesy of the shuttlebay crew. Remember what I told you about callsigns?"

"Something boneheaded you do..."

"Right."

Allura was incredulous. "Well, you could have told them 'no'."

"Hey, 'Wheels' ain't so bad. Besides, you wanted to become a fighter pilot. In for a dime, in for a dollar."

Allura shook her head. She wasn't at all happy with Adam allowing the crew to give her a nickname. If it came from him or the other boys, she might be more accepting. But then again, Adam had a point. 'Wheels' wasn't all that bad. Oh well, she could give it a chance. "Nobody but you or the guys uses it, though."

"Okay. That I can agree with. Diplomatic protocol must be followed," Adam said, deepening his voice into a slightly over-bassed imitation of Nanny that made Allura crack a smile. "So are we ready?"

"Yes," Allura said through a giggle

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get us up there!"

"Right." She adjusted her transmitter to the airfield's frequency. In her haste, she'd almost forgotten the section in the manual about control and direction procedures. It was something new to her, seeing as she usually only coordinated with Coran and the boys, but she had no intentions to make a mistake before she even got off the ground. "Lion Tower, this is _Thunderwing_, requesting taxi clearance."

"Thunderwing_, this is Lion Tower, you are cleared to taxi_."

"Thunderwing, roger."

Allura looked left and right, swinging the fighter around onto the runway.

"Thunderwing, _you are cleared for takeoff_."

"Roger." She was just about to throttle up and launch, when she remembered the near-disaster last time. She reached down and turned the rudder trim to five degrees right, then returned her view forward. With one more check of the instruments, she pushed the throttle forward, and the Mustang surged ahead. It wobbled to the right, but Allura caught it, and flew it straight out off of the field. She banked away in a climbing turn, reaching down for the handle by her left knee that had earned her her callsign. She heard the gear retract and felt the gentle _thump_ on her backside as they slid into the wheel wells and the doors closed.

"Nicely done." Adam complimented her. "Before we do anything with space maneuvers, you need to know how to fly this bird the way it was intended. If you understand how she handles in an atmosphere, it'll make adapting to space that much easier." He took over control for a few minutes, taking the P-51 above 12,000 feet. Suddenly, he pulled up vertical, and the fighter shot upward, losing speed fast.

"Adam, what are you doing?" Allura asked in alarm as the fighter started to buffet and a buzzer sounded. Suddenly, the plane flopped over onto its side and began to spin down violently. Allura screamed in surprise.

"Close throttle," Adam commanded firmly. "Stick forward, aileron and rudder against the spin." Allura did what he said, and after a few more turns, the plane was in a steep, but stable, nosedive. Pulling back on the stick, Allura leveled out and added some power. The Mustang skimmed happily along.

"What was _that_?" the Princess demanded, casting an angry glare at Adam's reflection in her mirror.

"A stall. _Thunder_'s the sweetest ride you could ask for, but if you're not careful, this pony'll buck ya. Did you notice the symptoms?"

"It shook."

"Yep. Elevator buffet a few miles an hour above stall, then it drops off into a spin. Easy enough to recover though, given enough altitude." He looked at her, still glaring at him. "I did that for a reason, Allura. You have to respect the plane. Respect it, and it'll never betray you. Listen to it, work with it. The minute you don't could be the minute you die. The plane has to become an extension of you. You don't just get in the cockpit and fly. You strap it on. You become part of it, and it a part of you. Understand?"

Allura nodded, thinking about what Adam said. Flying _Thunderwing_ was not going to be as easy as Adam made it look.

The rest of the afternoon and early evening was spent executing touch-and-go's and flying circuits around the Castle of Lions. By the time Driscoll called knock-it-off, Allura was very comfortable with taking off, landing, and turning _Thunderwing_. Not surprisingly, she found her experience with the Lions to be of great help to her.

"Okay, Allura, one last test. Put us down on the Castle Road and taxi into the repair bay," Adam said. Allura nodded, and swung the plane around. This landing would be a bit more difficult than her landings at the airfield, because she would have to put the fighter down right between the trees that lined the road. She didn't bother calling for clearance, since they were not using an airfield. "Lion Tower, this is _Thunderwing_. I'm putting down on the Castle Road."

"_Roger_."

After three aborted attempts, she was able to line up and set the Mustang down straight, letting it settle down onto its main wheels, decelerating down the road with trees less than six feet from either wingtip.

Rolling into the repair bay, Allura cut the engine and rolled back the canopy, securing the airplane according to the lists and diagrams she'd seen in the manual and on her kneeboard. When they finally climbed out onto the wing, Adam asked her, "So what do you think?"

"It's not as easy as it looks," she replied.

"Yeah, it's a little steep at first. Give it a month or two, and you'll be doing this like second nature," Adam reassured her. "The key is to learn to do it automatically, like brushing your hair in the morning."

Allura nodded, jumping down off the wing. "I wonder what Nanny will say at dinner when she sees me wearing my flight suit."

Adam rolled his eyes. "Ugh, forgot about that. Maybe you should head upstairs and change first."

"The path of least resistance?"

Adam nodded. "Never fly through flak when you can go around it, Ally."

_Castle of Lions_

_Planet Arus_

Dinner that evening was the same as always at the Castle of Lions. Nanny prepared an excellent meal, Lance threw out several groaner jokes, Hunk was begging and bargaining for everyone's dessert, and Pidge was guarding his food cautiously against the mice, while Allura laughed at the antics, and Keith looked on his teammates with only feigned disapproval, despite Nanny's admonishments about the boys' manners and Coran's occasional _harrumph_. Conversation was decidedly upbeat, as everyone intentionally avoided topics related to the war or any negatives regarding the rebuilding of Arus.

Adam was quieter than usual, something that did not go unnoticed. But it was no secret that Adam had been busier than normal lately, and everyone attributed his silence to contemplation.

After dinner, as everone was heading off to their own evening plans, Keith called Adam aside. They headed to the lounge. As soon as they stepped in, Adam asked, "What's up, boss?"

"Listen, I know you're busy lately, but something came through this afternoon from the Garrison. Apparently, there's been some unusual activity in the area around the Cheng Nebula. Zarkon has a large supply fleet there, getting ready to depart."

"Keith, I don't think a commerce raiding mission is going to do much. Hitting convoys usually involves a concerted effort by several ships. I'll be lucky to get two or three before the escorts move in."

"You're not hitting the convoy. Marshal Graham wants you to shadow the convoy and see where it goes. There's some equipment in it that's not Zarkon's usual supply-run type. Garrison wants you to follow the convoy, and find out what's going on."

"Why're you telling me about it? Why doesn't Graham talk to me himself?

"He didn't want to risk letting Zarkon's men know that the Garrison was on to them. Radio traffic between Terra and Arus is less suspicious."

But Adam was already shaking his head. "No, Keith, not this time. The _Berlin_ is going _nowhere_. But let me crunch some numbers. Maybe I can do a recce mission with _Thunderwing._"

"I'm not sure that's such a great idea, Adam."

"It's all we've got. I'm not taking the _Berlin_ anywhere near that convoy. If it's as important as Garrison intel says it is, it's gonna be escorted like nobody's business. I can't take that risk with the Princess aboard."

Keith nodded. "All right, but don't take too long. That convoy will be shipping out early tomorrow."

"Send me the data you got."

"Okay."

_USS Berlin_

_Orbiting Arus_

The following morning, Driscoll gathered his things and headed toward the turbolift. Just before he stepped in, he heard someone behind him call, "Adam, wait!"

Allura jogged onto the lift just as the doors closed behind her. "Shuttlebay," Driscoll ordered. He turned to the Princess. "What's up?"

"What's this I'm hearing about a sensor pod strapped to your wing today?" Allura asked, studying him carefully.

"How did you know about that?"

"You told me to watch the shuttlebay maintenance logs so I'd know what was happening with _Thunderwing_, remember? The techs logged your requisition." She knew that something was up. A sensor pod was not a part of _Thunderwing_'s normal inventory, and the records had shown the pod had to be modified for the Mustang to carry it at all. More suspicious was the addition of an extra, external antimatter fuel pod, and the rear jumpseat being swapped out for the rear fuel tank.

Adam considered, for a brief moment, feeding her a line. No need for her to worry. But then, chances were she could weedle an answer out of Keith or another member of the team as to his whereabouts. "I'm going on a recon mission. There's an important convoy that left port early this morning. I'm gonna follow them and figure out where they're going and what their loads are for."

"You're going alone?"

Driscoll shrugged. "No choice. We need that data, but you have to be here in case we need Voltron."

The turbolift stopped and the doors opened, depositing the two pilots near the entrance to the shuttlebay. They walked the few paces down the corridor and into the bay. Ahead, Driscoll's P-51 sat facing the outer bay doors. The wings were spread, one carrying a drop tank, the other carrying a modified sensor probe which was hard-wired into the Mustang's sensor systems.

Driscoll walked over to his fighter, shrugging on his jacket and putting his helmet on as he approached. He did his walkaround, and climbed onto the wing. Allura followed him as he stepped into the cockpit. Having attached all his hoses and lines to the appropriate connection points, he looked back at Allura, who was still looking at him from the wing. "Be careful," she said. "Come back safe." Suddenly, briefly, as he looked into her eyes, Adam felt something, some connection, pass between him and the young woman beside him. It was gone almost as soon as it happened, but he felt its effects for several seconds after.

With a half-smile, he said, "You know it, Ally."

She returned his smile, and climbed down off the wing as the Mustang's engine sputtered to life. A few moments later, the fighter surged forward, through the forcefield, and out into open space. Allura watched as the fighter banked right and was lost from view behind the bulkhead, before turning and making her way to morning Lion practice.


	7. The Direct Approach

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that belongs to WEP or CBS/Paramount, so don't sue me

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything that belongs to WEP or CBS/Paramount, so don't sue me. I'm not making any money off this anyway. What I do own are the crew of the _Berlin_, except Mordock and Scotty, the fighter _Thunderwing,_ and the story itself._

_Well, what can I say? I'm back again, it's been hectic, but I'm still here. But enough about me. On to the good stuff….._

Star Tron: The Retreat

Chapter 7: The Direct Approach

_Doom Forward Space Station_

_Cheng Nebula_

Prince Lotor walked onto the bridge of the lead cruiser escorting the supply convoy. Looking around, he watched the quick, efficient work of the officers and robot soldiers as they prepared for departure. It would take most of the day to get to the shipyard where the new battleship was being constructed.

Lotor was anxious to be underway. He wanted to see this so-called "super battleship" for himself. He'd tried to find some information on it, but its development was so secret, not even the name was published or even acknowledged. Given the way the war had been going, it was probably a wise move. There weren't even any slaves working in the shipyard. The ship was being built entirely by Doom personnel, to minimize the risk of infiltration by spies. It was a tightly-run operation, to be sure.

Settling into the command chair, Lotor watched one of the robot soldiers as it turned away from the communications console and approached him. "My Lord, all ships report ready. We await your orders," he said, bowing before the Prince.

Lotor smiled. "Excellent. Let us be under way then. All ships, move out!" At his order, the activity on the command deck spiked, as robots coordinated with each other and between the other ships, issuing commands and hearing replies, and the Doom fleet set sail.

_Planet Doom_

Unbeknownst to Lotor, as his fleet left its staging base, another fleet was leaving Planet Doom. This one was much smaller, just a command ship and a few dozen fighters, but its purpose was far more sinister.

Haggar stood by the side of the thronelike command chair, watching the forward viewport and stroking her blue cat as Cossack beside her gave orders to the crew in his typical, pompous fashion. She had more on her mind now than Cossack's delusions of grandeur. In the forward pod bay of this ship sat her latest, and perhaps most important creation. If this robeast was successful, it would bring the end of Voltron, and certainly, Zarkon's favor. She could rise to a position of power in the kingdom, and more importantly, would be able to solve the secret of Voltron's magic, making her the most powerful sorceress in the universe.

But she was also a realist. She didn't design this robeast to defeat Voltron. She'd long ago concluded that such a thing was impossible. Not even her most powerful spells could prove a match for the spirits of Voltron and his pilots. No, she couldn't defeat Voltron. But she didn't have to. She only had to defeat a part of him.

And that is what this robeast was designed to do. To stand and fight just long enough to defeat one part of Voltron. After that, the robeast's fate was irrelevant.

For once, things would be done right.

_USS Berlin_

_Orbiting Arus_

Getting back from Lion practice, Princess Allura walked into her room and sat down on the small couch near the window. She looked out, staring at the stars for several long moments. Not for the first time in recent days, she found her thoughts drifting to her wingman. Adam was out there somewhere, tracking that convoy, trying to figure out where it was heading, and why. It was a dangerous assignment, even for the _Berlin_, but Adam was out there alone, with nothing but his fighter against a fleet of Doom ships. It was very brave.

And also foolish. Just because he didn't want her to be put at risk, he had placed himself into even greater danger. She just couldn't fathom his logic. Once again, she felt a pang of anger creep into her mind. Anger at being held back and sheltered, while others risked themselves on her behalf. She belonged out there, with Adam and the boys, fighting Lotor, and doing everything she could to beat him.

But her anger was short-lived. She knew the real reason she was on the ship, and she knew that it would be over soon. It didn't make it more acceptable, but it was at least understandable.

She glanced over at the computer terminal on her desk, and saw that she had a message waiting. Getting up, she walked over to the computer, accessing the message and bringing it up on the screen. It was a simple text message.

_Wheels-_

_Read the section on power and propulsion systems in the manual. Quiz tomorrow._

_-Dinoman_

Allura huffed in disbelief. Here she was, worrying about him, and he wanted her to study the manual? Of all the… _And giving me a test_? _Who does he think he is_?

But even as she smoldered, wondering for a minute who could be the most heartless slavedriver between Adam and Keith, she picked up the PADD with _Thunderwing_'s data in it and started to read.

Out her viewport, had she been looking, she would have seen one of the stars start to move, slowly growing from a point of light into something more solid, moving toward Arus. But she read on, oblivious to the approaching intruder.

_Cheng Nebula_

Captain Driscoll's eyes were fixed on his control panel. Not that there was anything to see outside the cockpit except for bluish-gray clouds of gas and dust. He was nearing the place where, he hoped, the convoy would pass close to the nebula, allowing him to approach undetected.

The Cheng Nebula was one of the largest in the Denubian Galaxy, and it was no secret that Zarkon used it to hide things that he'd rather not be seen by his enemies. When he looked at the information Keith had forwarded from Galaxy Garrison, he'd determined that the best place to catch the supply fleet would be just as they departed their base, skirting the edge of the nebula. He could take advantage of the nebula's sensor-obscuring effects and the confusion of departure to conceal his approach, while using his enhanced sensors to penetrate the nebula and scan the convoy. He could then break cover when the convoy had passed out of sensor range, and follow their warp trail, while remaining outside of their detection radius.

That was the plan anyway. The problem was, he wasn't completely sure where the base was located. Some of the data had been scrambled with a code that was newer than Coran's computers had access to, and some of the coordinate information was still undecoded, leaving some guesses to be made about the base's precise position in the nebula's boundary region.

The good news was that fuel would not be an issue. The nebula was so rich in hydrogen, it was no problem for his onboard systems to collect enough hydrogen to keep his deuterium tanks topped off, and for his matter converter to replenish his supply of antimatter.

He scanned his instruments again, checking his engines and power, shield status, and the sensor readings the pod was gathering. He had to be close.

Suddenly, there it was. He detected the base just ahead, and was not reading any return scans. He adjusted his course to run just outside the edge of the station's sensor field. As he came around to the far side, he detected something else: a group of ships, moving away from the base. The convoy was just leaving.

He came in as close as he dared to the convoy. With the sensor interference, he couldn't get detailed readings, but he was able to get a general sense of what the ships were carrying. There were large amounts of consumable supplies, some kind of weapons, and what appeared to be some kind of mineral. The sensors couldn't resolve exactly what it was.

Driscoll was intrigued. He knew it wasn't ionized topaz. The sensors were calibrated to go off like Mardi Gras if they caught the slightest whiff of the stuff. Whatever this was, it was new. Or at least, not a known threat.

And that made him cautious. The unknown was something to be very wary of. Especially in combat.

But for now, until he decided how to deal with this new development, he would follow his plan. So, after making one more long-range pass to confirm that this was the right convoy, he settled into a trailing position, with the rear echelon of the convoy just barely visible on his long range sensors. _Now comes the boring part_, he thought.

_Planet Arus_

The small Doom attack force settled into a low orbit above Arus. While Cossack was in command of the fleet, it was Haggar who was undisputedly in charge of the operation, and she had decided that it was not yet time to attack. She knew very well that the Voltron Force would just be getting off of their morning practice, and would still be ready to fly out and meet them. Success would be more likely if they could catch the Voltron Force unawares, and less prepared to meet them.

The only hard part would be avoiding detection. The Konogg Brigade had been given the only cloaks available in this half of the empire, so using new ones wasn't an option on this mission. Still, they'd managed to evade the sensors of the _Berlin_ though a bit of trickery, magical and otherwise that were all part of Haggar's plan. Neither the starship nor the castle had seen their approach, otherwise they would have been engaged by now.

For the moment, time was on their side, so they would wait for the perfect moment to strike.

_Castle of Lions_

_Planet Arus_

Keith glanced up from his reports to the small clock on his desk. It was just past noon, and he still was only halfway through the usual weekly reports and supply requests to Galaxy Garrison. Sometimes he wondered why he even bothered. The supplies, if they were even sent, would take weeks, due to the circuitous routes the ships had to take to avoid the marauding fleets of Doom raiders. And the status reports were always met with the same acknowledgements upon receipt, but very little else. The message from Graham and company was always the same. Keep up the good work, and we'll send supplies and reinforcements at the earliest time.

So far, that time had been over a year in coming. Supplies occasionally came through, but for the most part, Arus was on its own, militarily and economically. That was one of the reasons that the arrival of the Federation had been such a windfall for them. They now had direct access to much of what they had been requesting and never getting from Galaxy Garrison. Keith was even starting to suspect that GG was having Starfleet deliver supplies from their side.

As was happening more often lately, he found his thoughts wandering from his task. Despite being intensely focused when it came to duty, he had little patience for the rather mundane aspects of paperwork. Especially when it was more procedural than productive. Sometimes, he even wondered why he bothered. The Garrison could just as easily find out what was going on through Coran, who submitted much the same sort of weekly status reports through diplomatic channels, as was required of all Alliance member worlds in time of war.

He pushed his chair back and stood up. He needed a break. Walking around his desk, he headed for the door. Perhaps a walk around the castle would let him get his mind back on track. Besides, he usually liked to check in with Lance and Coran to find out what was happening while he'd been holed up with his papers. Despite the redundancy of the paperwork, he liked to stay on top of things at the Castle.

Leaving his room, he headed down the corridor, passing a branch that led to the royal chambers. As he did, he thought about Allura, up on the starship. Perhaps he'd put in a call later to see how things were going up there.

Continuing on, he made his way toward Castle Control. He passed a few guards as he went, who acknowledged him with a nod and a "Sir." He nodded in return, and continued on.

Walking into the Control Room, he nodded to the guards at the door, and headed for the main control console, where Coran sat, running some system diagnostics.

"Anything going on up here?" Keith asked.

Coran shook his head. "All's quiet for now, Commander," he replied. Anticipating his next question, the old advisor said, "Nothing new on Captain Driscoll's scouting mission, and the starship reports no contacts."

Keith nodded, glancing down at the diagnostic readouts. "Something wrong with the sensors?" he asked.

"Nothing to be concerned about. Some of our sensors are having difficulties interfacing with the new weapon systems. It shouldn't take long to resolve."

"What kind of difficulties?" Keith asked.

"I've been getting ghost readings all morning. Faint contacts that appear and fade randomly in certain spots."

"Have you checked with the _Berlin_?" Ever since the incident with the Konogg Brigade, Keith had become, if possible, even more serious about their detection systems. In his meticulous opinion, even the faintest, fleeting echo was worth investigating. Such oversights had proved costly not long ago.

Coran nodded. "I have. They swept the area, and detected nothing."

Keith continued to study the diagnostic cycle. If the starship had scanned the area, it was probably clear, and Coran was probably right about it just being an interface issue. Still, he would feel better once the diagnostics were completed and the problem was resolved.

"Have you finished your reports? I can bundle them with mine and send them in one packet." Coran said.

Keith sighed. "No, not yet. Paperwork's not my strong point today."

Coran looked up at him and smiled slightly. "It is tedious, but necessary. Let me know when you finish."

"All right, Coran. Have you seen Lance lately?"

"I believe he said he was heading into Olessa today. Something about his Lion."

Keith rolled his eyes. He'd been noticing some odd items showing up on Red Lion's maintenance logs lately. The man had apparently decided that the cat was his own personal sports car, and had been acquiring some unorthodox add-on components. Some things he could understand, like upgraded ejector seat motors or more ergonomic yaw pedals, but some things, like the "multi-tonal signal processor with dedicated output modules", especially when combined with the classic hair-metal collection he found added to Red Lion's database, were just frivolous. He'd have to have a talk with Lance.

"All right," he said heavily. "If you see him, tell him I'm looking for him, all right?"

"Very well, Commander," Coran replied with a nod, turning back to his monitors.

Keith turned and walked toward the thick blast doors that led out of the control room, and had just reached them when a thunderous _boom_ resounded through the Castle, the reverberations of which caused everyone to grab onto the nearest handhold to stay on their feet.

"We're under attack!" Coran announced. "Doom fighters incoming!"

As the alert klaxons blared, Coran was already raising the launch tubes. Knowing Hunk and Pidge would be following momentarily, Keith bolted for his. "Coran, find Lance and tell him to get back here!" he called as he leapt for the bar in the tube, grabbing hold of it as it lowered him down to the tram that would take him out to Black Lion.

_USS Berlin_

The Red Alert siren rang out, shattering the peace of her quarters as the light panel above her door flashed crimson. Reaching into her pocket, Allura pulled out the combadge Adam had given her. "Allura to bridge, what's going on?"

"_The Castle of Lions is under attack_," came the thick, raspy reply of Commander Gredar. "_Stand by for transport_."

"Roger," Allura replied, clipping the pin to her chest, the tiny hooks on the back gripping the material of her jumpsuit as she felt the electric tingle of the transporter start to take her.

_Planet Arus_

Leaping into the air, Black Lion vaporized two fighters with quick shots of it's eyebeams as they made an attack run on the front of the castle. Looking around, he saw some of the castle's close-range laser batteries opening up on the fighters. Since the new Starfleet-made weapons weren't operational yet, Keith knew it would be up to the Lions to defend against the brunt of the attack.

Circling around, Keith engaged another trio of fighters, knocking down two and forcing the third to break off its attack to evade him. Checking his sensors, he saw Yellow and Green Lions launching, and detected Blue powering up below him in the moat. Now if Lance would just get his ass back here…

Suddenly, Coran's voice came over the comm link. "_Castle Control calling Voltron Force. Robeast spotted five kilometers east of Olessa_."

"Copy, Coran. Have you reached Lance yet?"

"_Yes, Commander. He's on his way. He should be able to join you in less than ten minutes._"

Keith frowned. Not good enough. The fight would be over in that time, and not in a good way. They needed Lance _now_. "Princess, are you airborne?"

"Just now, Keith," Allura replied as her face appeared on the small round comm-viewer on Keith's right-hand console.

"Head for Olessa. Find Lance and take him back to the Castle. He should be somewhere along the road by now."

"On it, Keith," she replied. She'd heard Coran's alarm as well, and knew they couldn't wait for Lance to get back to the Castle on his own. She could fly him right to the volcano in less time than it would take him to get to the castle.

Keith watched Allura head off down the main road from the castle to Olessa. Hopefully, Lance could join them in a few minutes, and they'd be able to form Voltron and deal with the robeast. But until then, they'd have to keep the robeast busy and away from Olessa. "Okay, Pidge, Hunk, let's go deal with this thing," he said, hearing their acknowledgements as he led the way toward the robeast.

_Doom Command Ship_

_Orbiting Planet Arus_

"Look, there's the Blue Lion," said Cossack, pointing at the viewer, where Blue Lion had split off from the others, and was now heading directly toward the city below.

Haggar watched quietly. "Let her go for now. Three Lions can't stop my pet. She will come to us soon enough."

"I think we should send the robeast after her now. If they can't form Voltron to begin with, we could conquer the entire planet."

As if to refute his claim, a barrage of crimson fireballs rained down on the robeast, exploding against its shoulders and upper chest, staggering it back as the three Lions moved in with their first volley, toppling it over backwards.

"No, Cossack. We will follow the plan. We can come back for the planet later once we have dealt with Voltron," Haggar replied, stroking her cat. "It takes more than a single robeast to take a planet."

Cossack only nodded. "Perhaps," he said, and turned back to the viewer.

_Near Olessa_

_Planet Arus_

Lance had the little hovercar maxed out, racing down the road as fast as he could, three packages in the back bouncing heavily. He'd seen the robeast as he'd left the city, and been overflown by Keith, Pidge, and Hunk on their way to fight it.

Suddenly, he heard a roar behind him, and a hot wind buffeted the open-topped car. He looked back, expecting to see the fireball of an exploding missile. Instead, he saw a mountain of chrome and blue steel. "_Lance, stop!_" A familiar voice called.

Lance brought the vehicle to a halt as the Lion crouched down, laying its chin on the ground. "_Hurry, we don't have much time. I'll take you to Red,_" said Allura.

Lance glanced at the boxes in the rear of the car, then, with a sigh of frustration, ran toward Blue Lion. Moments later, Lance stepped into the cockpit and sat down in the jumpseat as the Lion dashed toward the volcano.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Keith watched as Blue Lion took off toward the volcano, knowing it was only a matter of moments now until Lance joined them.

Turning his attention back to the robeast, he subconsciously analyzed its aesthetics as he studied its movements and tried to keep it distracted from the city. It was humanoid in form, with two bull-like horns on its head, and a bright steel plate over its mouth, not unlike a surgical mask. Dark gray in color. It's hands and arms looked normal, though it had only two fingers and a thumb. It's body was covered in a Greek-like armor plate, and its feet were encased in heavy steel boots. It was armed with a pair of vicious-looking spiked warclubs.

Zooming around to the side of the robeast, Keith lined up with a pair of missiles and let fly, causing the robeast to turn toward him and lunge. Keith was able to evade the strike, but it had the effect of causing the robeast to take a step away from Olessa. Hunk came in, shooting the robeast in the back, causing it to stumble forward, further away from the town. Pidge came in and repeated Keith's maneuver, and this way, the three Lions were able to slowly lure the Doom monstrosity away from Olessa, buying time for Allura and Lance to join them.

They continued these luring attacks for several minutes, until a loud, boisterous voice called out, "Where does Lotor find these things?" Keith looked over, and saw Red and Blue Lions coming in low from the direction of the castle. They made a pass at the robeast's legs, hitting it behind the knees, and it fell to the ground. Pulling up, they entered formation with the other Lions as the interlock sequence began.

"Form feet and legs," Keith called out as Yellow and Blue Lions tucked in their legs and formed a pair of armored boots. "Form arms and body," he commanded, as Red and Green Lions became the hands and arms of the warrior. "And I'll form the head," he finished, as Black Lion's head changed into the face and helmet of Voltron.

Coming back down toward the ground, Voltron stood at the ready as the robeast got to its feet, and squared off against him.

_USS Berlin_

Aboard the _Starship Berlin_, high above the battle, the bridge crew watched the battle. After her initial volley, Gredar had ordered the ship to stand by to assist if Voltron became disadvantaged. With the Captain out of communication, and unable to assist the robot warrior, it was up to the starship to cover the Voltron Force.

His silver eyes reflected the image that everyone else on the command deck saw. Voltron and the robeast stood facing each other, the robeast wielding his maces, Voltron seemingly unarmed.

Then, the robeast lunged at Voltron, who sidestepped and leaped into the air, a pair of stingray missiles shooting from the moths of Yellow and Blue Lions. The robeast spun dodging one missile, but the other one caught it in the shoulder, knocking it off balance. It stumbled away, and dropped to one knee, but recovered, surging forward with another swing.

Voltron deflected this new attack, his left arm, Green Lion, parrying the blow while Lance used Red Lion's flamethrower to make the robeast hot under the collar, directing a torrent of fire into the construct's face. Bellowing in pain and rage, the robeast stepped back, and Keith saw his chance. "Form Blazing Sword!" He commanded.

Voltron leapt into the air, his fists coming together with a reverberating _clang_, and coming apart, a beam of light forming between them, and coalescing into Voltron's mighty blade. But as the robot descended, the robeast was recovering. In one deft move, he marked his target, spun away from Voltron's thrust, and swung his right-hand mace, connecting with the side of Blue Lion's head in a metal-crushing, spark spewing blow. Voltron was thrown to the side, crashing to the ground on his back.

Seeing this happen, Gredar was quick to action. "Fire torpedoes. Force it back," he commanded.

Jacobs didn't reply, her hands flying across her console in a blur, summoning the strike from the starship's torpedo tubes. With a final keystroke, she launched the volley, four torpedoes streaking toward Arus at a quarter the speed of light.

Seconds later, they hit the robeast, three in the chest, one in the left shoulder, pushing it back and spinning it to the ground as Voltron struggled back to his feet, Blue Lion following limply.

_Planet Arus_

The robeast tried to get up, but a second volley from the starship knocked him back to the ground. Voltron limped forward, Blue Lion dragging lifelessly on the ground, the Blazing Sword raised above his head. "Strike!" Keith commanded, and the blade came down, impaling the robeast. Pulling it free, Voltron was just barely able to jump clear as the robeast exploded in a cloud of flame, smoke and debris.

But the close call was quickly forgotten. "Princess, can you hear me?" Keith called. "Princess, respond!"

"Keith, I'm not getting any response from Blue Lion," Pidge replied. "All systems dead." He immediately regretted his choice of words, but knew there was nothing to be done about it.

"Get down there, Pidge!" Keith ordered. Calling up an image of Voltron's right leg on his viewer, he was dismayed by what he saw. The right side of Blue Lion's face was badly dented in, and sparks flew from several ruptured conduits.

A few moments later, Pidge's voice called over the intercom. "Keith, get us on the ground! We need medics, _right now_!"

_Doom Command Ship_

Cossack watched on the viewer as Voltron finished off the robeast. He looked at Haggar beside him, who was staring intently at the image before her, her face unreadable under her hooded cloak. Looking back at the screen, he watched Voltron fly toward the castle without the Lions separating, and land in front of the palace. A group of white-coated medics rushed out, and lifted a limp form from a hatch in the side of Blue Lion.

Cossack smiled. They had done it. He wanted to press the attack now, but Haggar was right. They'd need more ships to take Arus. Gleefully, he ordered the ship to turn back for Planet Doom at best speed.


	8. A Gathering Storm

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything that belongs to WEP or CBS/Paramount, so don't sue me. I'm not making any money off this anyway. What I do own are the crew of the _Berlin_, except Mordock and Scotty, the fighter _Thunderwing,_ and the story itself._

_A/N: Thanks so much to Ms. Marajade for proofreading and assistance with the character scenes. I'm still learning that part of the game. And of course to all of my comrades who review my stories and give me a reason to keep finding minutes here and there to write, between grading, planning, committees…. Anyway, on with it._

**Star Tron: The Retreat**

**Chapter 8: A Gathering Storm**

_Thunderwing_

_Somewhere in Doom Space_

Captain Driscoll watched his sensor display, still tracking the broad cluster of warp wakes left by the Doom convoy. Far from being breadcrumbs, the trails of the inefficient cruisers and supply ships were more like entire loaves, stretching though space. Occasionally, he caught a glimpse of one or two of the trailing vessels, but these were fleeting, as he quickly throttled back to drop out of range again. He had no intention of letting himself be discovered.

He'd been trailing the convoy for hours as they doglegged one way and another. Twice, he had nearly lost the trail, after they very suddenly changed direction. One of those times, he actually found himself flying at the broadside of the convoy, and was barely able to evade detection by the star cutters patrolling the flanks.

Checking his fuel gauges, he did a quick calculation, and realized that he couldn't keep after the convoy much longer. As it was, he'd have to fly back through the nebula to replenish his fuel for the flight back to Arus. That was the marker by which he was now measuring his range. A safe return home now meant getting safely back to the Cheng Nebula, to partake of its hydrogen-rich clouds.

Looking at his sensors again, he saw the convoy coming back into view, and pulled back on the throttle. A few moments later, they came into view again. The convoy was slowing. That could mean any one of a few possibilities: one of them had suffered engine issues; someone had detected him and was assuming a defensive formation; or that the convoy was getting close to its destination.

Calling up a star chart of the area, Driscoll realized that they were approaching the center of the galaxy. The system they were in now was one of the myriad proto-solar systems that whipped around the galactic core at breakneck speeds. These were small yellow and white stars with a few asteroids and other pieces of detritus for planets.

Despite the lack of uder-developed state of the stellar bodies and their planetary entourage, the area was densely populated, filled with pockets of gas and dark matter that obscured sensors. It was the perfect place to hide a secret project.

The convoy continued to decelerate, and Driscoll was now sure that they were almost at their destination. He armed his weapons and prepared to drop his fuel tank and sensor pod, if the situation demanded it. If they were getting near their destination, it also meant they were probably coming into range of the first defensive arrays that were guarding this secret.

Switching on his stealth systems, Driscoll aligned himself in the center of the warp trails, using them to mask his own approach to the convoy. If he played his cards right, he'd be able to hide among the convoy, and appear as nothing but a ghost echo to anything but a visual scan…but if he didn't, then things were probably about to get _very_ hot.

Sliding in close to the tail of one of the transport ships, just a few meters ahead and below the engine nozzles, he followed the track of the convoy, carefully matching his throttle settings to hold his position. They were flying through a field of gas, dust, and rocks ranging from fist-sized, to boulders that dwarfed the fat slave transports. At one point, the transport he was shadowing came close enough to one that he actually had to bank to port to avoid a collision. Looking around, he saw several large laser canons attached to the asteroids, but all of them were pointed away, towards deep space. There were also a number of smaller emplacements surrounding these large ones, to create a layered defense system. As they flew on, Driscoll noted several small star cutters, and his sensors told him that they were all packing topaz-enriched lazon missiles. Whatever was going on here, security was tight.

Then, he saw it, and his jaw actually dropped. "QI'yaH," he muttered, the powerful Klingon curse coming reflexively.

The convoy was approaching a small station, where they would obviously offload their supplies. The number of windows in the facility told Driscoll that he'd be losing his cover very soon. But that wasn't what bothered him. It was what lay beyond the facility that had him dumbstruck. Switching on every passive recording and monitoring device on his plane and packed into the sensor pod, his thoughts were dominated by two words: size and power.

The ship that was berthed in a drydock facility just beyond the supply station was massive. Its design was not unlike that of a standard battleship, but it was five times larger. It was built long and sleek, more so than the normal battleships. The skull-like conning tower was taller, and instead of sticking out at a ninety-degree angle, the lower half, below the stylized skull architecture, was faired into the rest of the hull, fore and aft, by a sloping dorsal ridge. Mounted on that ridge were dozens of pairs of laser turrets, each with two cannons, set into cavities in the hull. Running along the top of both ridges was a line of four super-blasters, like the rectangular weapons mounted on the battleships. These could only vary their elevation, but would make the ship deadly in a head-on or rear-quarter attack. The bow had the same concave, pointed structure as a standard battleship.

Along the flanks of the ships were dozens of missile launchers on flexible mounts that could swivel through a 110-degree cone of fire. The belly of the ship was protected with more of the laser barbettes found on the dorsal ridge, recessed into the hull to facilitate landing. The open hangar doors revealed a fighter bay the size of a cargo ship, with enough room to service and operate at least four hundred Stinger-type fighters. The propulsion section had ten engine nozzles, arranged in two rows of five along the back end, with six smaller units to provide sublight propulsion.

Driscoll's reverie was broken by his radar warning system alerting him to the fact that he'd just been scanned. The easy part of the mission had just ended.

_Doom Command Ship_

Lotor gazed proudly at the new battleship from the command center of his ship. The _Conquest of Zohar_, named for the battle that cemented his father's supremacy in the Diamond Galaxy, was the largest warship ever built by Doom. Equipped with the latest topaz-enriched lazon weapons, the last of which were being carried on this convoy for installation, it had more firepower than ten battleships, and armor to match. It was expected that it could even stand on its own against the _Berlin_. Lotor could not help but smile. Within the hour, he would transfer his flag to this mighty ship, and once he had completed its trials, he intended to add it to his fleet. It would be baptized in the fires of combat by leading his forces to victory against Voltron.

"Prince Lotor, we have a report from the station," said one of the officers below him on the bridge.

Looking down from the throne-like command chair, Lotor fixed him with an intense glare. "What is it?"

"We have been followed, Sire. _Thunderwing_ is here."

"_Driscoll? _Where is he?" the prince demanded angrily.

"Beneath one of the supply vessels, My Lord, trying to evade detection."

"Surround him! Don't let him escape!"

The officer bowed and went back to the communications station, relaying Lotor's orders.

Almost as an afterthought, Lotor added, "I want him alive!" He would find out what Driscoll knew about the _Conquest of Zohar, _how much he had sent back to Arus, and then he would personally see to it that the captain was tortured until he revealed every secret he knew. He would break the boy, slowly, inflicting a dozen times over the pain and humiliation that he'd suffered because of Starfleet's meddling, and the Voltron Force's constant disruption of his plans. Oh yes, this would be such sweet retribution. _My day just keeps getting better,_ he thought as a grin spread across his lips.

_Thunderwing_

A sudden jolt pushed _Thunderwing _down and away from the cargo ship as its shields snapped into place, and Driscoll saw dozens of fighters begin swarming in around him. It didn't take a massive logical effort to realize that he'd been discovered. It was time to go.

Pushing the nose down and slamming the throttle forward, Driscoll dove away as classic rock music filled his headset. The fighter wasn't as nimble as it normally was because of the sensor and the fuel tank under the wings, but Driscoll was unfazed. He'd get away, no problem. All he had to do was figure out exactly how in the hell that was going to happen.

Pulling around hard, he suddenly found himself bracketed by laser fire. Now that he was in relatively open space, neither the fighters moving in on him from the base nor the convoy behind him had any qualms about spewing laser energy in his direction. It was the typical Doom spray-and-pray strategy in full evidence.

Looping back, he made for the enemy battleship. Since he'd already been found, there was no point in not maximizing the gains for the trip. Cranking the sensor pod to full power, he intended to make one good pass and get all the information he could.

But as he bore down on the battleship, he got the shock of his life. A virtual wall of laser fire rose to meet him as every small battery on the ship opened up to block his approach. He hadn't counted on the ship being able to fight while still in its docking structure. With fighters behind and flak ahead, there was nowhere to go but forward. Throwing the stick from one side to another, Driscoll desperately tried to evade as much of the fire as he could. Yanking and banking, he snaked his way toward the battleship, just trying to find an opening in the barrage that he could escape through.

He had to rely entirely on his sensors, because the sheer number of laser hits against his shields kept them illuminated like a light show gone wild, blinding him to anything beyond. Suddenly, a flashing indicator on his right windshield panel told him that his rear shields were failing, seconds before _Thunderwing_ was jolted violently, and a loud _bang _echoed in the cockpit. Glancing at his damage indicator, he saw that his tail was hit, and his rear thrusters were leaking hydrazine, and they'd be dead in a matter of moments. He had no time.

Pulling hard on the stick, he shoved his drive selector to "warp" and set a rough course back toward the Cheng Nebula. It took several, agonizing seconds for the computer to plot a course that would evade all the rocks and debris in the area, as the Doom fighters closed in. Suddenly, a beep confirmed that the course was set, and Driscoll firewalled his throttle, taking this last, desperate chance to escape.

Lotor watched as the Mustang was hammered by the laser fire from his fighters, then suddenly leapt into warp. Snarling in rage, he turned toward the helmsman. "After him, you fool!" he bellowed. After coming this close, there was no way he was going to let Driscoll escape so easily.

A moment after _Thunderwing_ went to warp, Lotor's command ship turned its nose out and raced off after the fighter.

_Castle of Lions_

_Arus_

Keith, Lance, Hunk, and Pidge waited outside the castle infirmary with Nanny and Coran. After Voltron had landed, a medical team had rushed the Princess to the infirmary, and she'd been in with Dr. Gorma ever since. That was almost an hour ago.

It had been a sobering experience for all the pilots. Unlike earlier incidents where the Princess had been injured, there was no doubt that she was in real trouble this time. The entire right side of Blue Lion's head had been dented in, and looked more like an impact crater than a head. While the shielding and sound structural design had prevented catastrophe, the reactions of the other four pilots when Allura was pulled out of the wreckage told a very different tale.

The side of her helmet was cracked, and her uniform had been singed by panels that sent arcs of electricity across the cockpit when their circuits cracked and overloaded, filling the chamber with smoke. The visor on her helmet was shattered, and it had cut her face in several places, causing her to bleed heavily. Reddened and burned skin could be seen though the tears in her flight suit. Her breathing was shallow and weak as she lay askew in the flight seat, her restraint bar bent and twisted away from her.

The medics had carefully lifted her out of the seat, securing her neck and back with braces, before putting her on a stretcher and carrying her quickly to the infirmary.

Sitting across the waiting area from the Voltron Force, Nanny dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief as Coran held her other hand comfortingly. She cast intermittent, angry glances at the boys, especially at Keith. He had earned himself a particularly intense set of daggers from the governess.

Suddenly, the doors to the surgical ward opened, and Doctor Gorma stood there, looking at the others, with a solemn look on his face.

The team braced themselves for the worst.

_Thunderwing_

_Doom Space_

_Thunderwing _rocked, its duranium frame creaking loudly as it was pushed aside by another near miss from the Doom battleship close behind it. So far, Driscoll had been able to avoid the worst of it. He had enough of a lead on the big ship where they could only use their larger weapons on him. The problem was that he could afford to take far fewer hits from the big guns and missiles, which were now almost continually bracketing him.

He moved the stick and pedals randomly and erratically, trying to make the small fighter as difficult of a target as possible. He'd reinforced his rear shields at the expense of the forward ones, but the gamble had already paid off, as he was able to endure several glancing blows from the massive laser cannons of Lotor's ship. It had caused Lotor to start shooting ahead of him, which was just what he wanted, because it gave him an extra second or two to see the missile burst or the laser blast and evade it, as he had just done.

Initially, he had been out of range of even the big guns, but Lotor's ship had sprinted above his speed of warp 5, allowing them to get close to weapons range before reducing power on the overworked engines as their heavy armament came to bear.

Another volley of laser fire erupted around him, bouncing him around the cockpit even as he threw the stick and stomped the pedals to evade it.

_Doom Command Ship_

_Pursuing Thunderwing_

Lotor watched as his latest salvo burst ineffectively around the small fighter, cursing in frustration. Secrecy was essential to the _Zohar_ project. It was not yet time for the enemy to learn of the ship's existence. And if the ship came to harm from a preemptive Starfleet strike… Lotor couldn't even imagine the extent of his father's rage.

But even as he contemplated that and cursed the fighter on his screen, he came to another realization. At this speed, there was no way he would be able to overtake the fighter, and the longer he remained in pursuit, the closer he came to the _Berlin_'s range, and it was a foregone conclusion that Driscoll had already called for assistance. Besides, killing Driscoll wasn't part of this assignment. His duty was to oversee the completion of the _Conquest of Zohar_ and to make it ready for action, not to prevent its discovery by the enemy. As much as he would like to see Driscoll destroyed, he had other, more important work that required his attention.

He turned toward his helmsman. "Navigator, break off pursuit. Return to the shipyard. Radio officer, alert all commands between here and Arus to intercept that fighter. It must not survive to return to Arus."

The officers' acknowledgements went unheard by Lotor as he sat stoically in his chair, watching the view on the main screen sweep around as the ship turned. He was already planning the _Zohar_'s shakedown cruise.

_Castle of Lions_

_Arus_

"The Princess was very badly injured," said Dr. Gorma, glancing down at the chart he carried. "First and second degree electrical burns; facial lacerations; broken collarbone; three broken ribs; one of which caused some minor internal bleeding." Dr. Gorma looked at the chart, momentarily avoiding the emotions that were playing over the faces of the others in the room. Sighing quietly, he finished, "She also has a concussion and cranial swelling."

"Oh, my poor baby!" Nanny exclaimed. "Will she be all right?"

"She's stable now, Nanny," Dr. Gorma explained, relieved to offer some good news. "I have been able to repair the broken bones and stop the bleeding. The burns are healing, as are the cuts on her face." He paused once more, knowing that he had to still offer the worst of it. "My concern now is the concussion. The swelling caused some neurological problems and I won't be able to fully assess the damage until she wakes up. She could be fine, or she could still be very badly injured. She will live, but the quality of her life is what's at stake now."

"Can you awaken her?" Coran asked, an edge of apprehension creeping into his voice, unsettling his normally unshakable outward demeanor. He was almost afraid of what Dr. Gorma might say, and he didn't want to think of what it would be like if Allura... a girl he had raised practically as his own daughter, were permanently injured.

"I can, but I won't. It's best for her if she comes out of this on her own. Forcing her might cause worse harm."

Coran nodded, slightly relieved that there was still hope for a full recovery. "Understood, Doctor."

Gorma's voice softened a bit. "I know you'd all like to speak to her, but she's resting now, and it would be better if she were allowed to sleep. I'll notify you as soon as she wakes up."

With muttered acknowledgements, the group filed out.

Keith slowly walked toward his quarters. After all they'd done to protect Allura… and now she was in the infirmary, having barely survived a direct hit on her Lion. There was no doubt in his mind that the robeast had been sent exclusively for that purpose: to engage Voltron and attack the Princess. And he hadn't seen it coming. After all that had happened, he never expected that a robeast attack would be the next step. But now, it seemed so obvious. With Allura in hiding, the only time she wasn't under heavy guard was when she was flying her Lion. So they'd launched a robeast attack, and Keith himself had put Allura directly into the line of fire. He knew he would never forgive himself for it if Allura had suffered any permanent harm.

What else could he have possibly done, though? They needed Voltron, and Allura was the pilot of Blue Lion. It was the perfect tactical arrangement, and he hated it. The one gap in the protection they always tried to surround Allura with.

"It's not your fault, Keith."

The Commander turned and saw Lance a step behind him. But this time, he wasn't in the mood to entertain another of Lance's pep talks.

"It doesn't matter whose fault it was or wasn't Lance," Keith replied. "I should have done more to protect her."

"Well, if you're going to make that argument, you might as well blame me for not blocking the hit. Or maybe Hunk for not putting Yellow Lion in the way." Lance shook his head. He himself was still coming to terms with the dire circumstances the princess was in. But now, trying to snap Keith out of his funk was giving him something else to focus on, albeit in a roundabout way. "Come on, Keith. It didn't matter where that blow landed. It was going to do some major damage, and somebody was gonna get hurt."

"No, not somebody, Lance." Keith admonished gently. "Allura." He felt his hands knot into fists as he became angry with himself at his lack of scrutiny. He should have been more observant… should have seen it sooner. Maybe then Allura wouldn't be in the hospital. "That robeast was only after her. Zarkon sent that robeast specifically to attack her."

Lance looked at him doubtfully. "You sure?"

Without further thought, Keith replied. "No question. It could have attacked any part of Voltron at any time. But it always swung low, and after it hit Allura, it didn't try very hard to do anything else."

Lance thought about what Keith said as they continued walking, and reflected on the battle. Keith was right. The robeast had seemed intent on attacking Voltron's legs, and once it hit Allura, it didn't try very hard for the rest of the battle, even after the _Berlin_'s salvo knocked it down.

"So what do we do now?" Lance asked. "What are you going to do?"

Stopping at the door to his room, Keith turned toward Lance. The world that once was predictable and rational no longer existed. "I don't know, Lance. I don't know." With that, he turned and went in, leaving Lance standing outside his door as it closed.

Lance knew better right now than to try to come in after Keith. The commander needed some time alone to think. And he suspected there was more on his mind than just tactics and procedure this time.

Keith settled into the chair at the small desk in the corner of his room, glancing idly at the stack of papers waiting for his attention. The work was trivial and insignificant to him at this moment. Maybe he would be able to deal with it later, but for now, his mind focused, unbidden, on Allura. He again saw her limp, seemingly lifeless body being lifted from her cockpit, strapped to a gurney with a brace around her neck, the blood on her face, and the tears and scorches on her flight suit… But he pushed those thoughts away. Allura was alive, and she'd recover. She had to. He would will her to recover if necessary.

But what would he do now that all this had happened? Even in combat, with the rest of the Force around her, she would be targeted. It was going to be extremely difficult to protect her in battle. Before, when she had just been part of the team, another Lion pilot in combat, that had been one thing. If she got in trouble, Adam or someone could cover her, help her evade her attackers, and get on with the fight.

But now, if she was a target… _the_ target…

But what could they do about it? They needed a pilot for Blue Lion, and Allura was it. Once more, he wished he could get Sven back. But since the Doom attack on Ebb, there had been no word on what became of him, and Keith knew realistically what to expect.

She had to fly. There was nothing else to be done about it. She was the only one who could fly Blue Lion, and besides that, piloting was in her blood, and in her heart. But what if something happened? What if the Drules succeeded, and she was lost? What would Arus do without her? What would the Alliance do without her in the cockpit of her Lion?

What would _he_ do without her?

That question hung in his mind, like a wisp of smoke from a candle. He didn't want to think about what it would be like without Allura. Militarily, it would be a disaster. Both for the team and for Arus. But personally…

And yet, he found himself considering the same old dilemma as always. Despite his feelings for her, how could he think he even had a chance? Their social status aside, what evidence did he have that she felt any attraction or affection toward him? They were friends, and he certainly felt more, but he had never told her, and she most definitely had never told him. But he knew for sure that he was in love with her.

And then there was Adam. It was no secret that he and Allura were close. How close, he could only guess. And if they were as close as he suspected, did he have any chance of winning Allura over? The thought made him cringe. He liked Adam, and considered him a capable and competent officer, and a valuable asset to the team, but he was also a rival for the one thing that mattered most to him.

It was an unwinnable scenario. He could either sacrifice the safety of Arus to protect Allura, or condemn Allura to almost certain death by allowing her to continue combat, and end up sacrificing the safety of Arus anyway.

His train of thought was broken when his communicator beeped at him. Picking it up, he responded, and heard Coran's voice on the other end. "_Commander, I would like to speak with you in the Control Room_."

"All right, Coran. I'm on my way," he replied. With a sigh, he lifted himself out of the chair, straightened his jumpsuit, and walked out the door.

As he entered the corridor, he saw Lance come out of his own room, and fall into step beside him. "Coran called you too?" he asked.

"Yeah. Wonder what's up?"

Keith shook his head.

Arriving in the Control Room, Lance and Keith saw that Pidge and Hunk were already there. That could only mean one thing: Planning for how to defend Arus with Allura out of commission.

But Keith wasn't expecting what Coran said next. Taking in the group gathered around him in a loose semicircle, he cleared his throat. "Gentlemen, I have decided to seek your opinion on a matter of grave importance, as it concerns you directly."

Lance cringed inwardly at Coran's first word. Whenever he addressed them as "Gentlemen" instead of "Voltron Force" or "Pilots", it was serious.

"In light of recent events," Coran continued, "I believe that Allura should be prohibited from flying combat. Permanently."

Lance, Hunk, and Pidge immediately began to protest, but Coran quieted them with a look. He wasn't finished, and would have no interruptions. "Given the battle today and its outcome, I see little cause to doubt that Zarkon is behind the recent attempts on Allura's life, and I see no reason to make her any easier of a target than she already is."

Now, the three pilots began their protests, arguing that they could cover Allura, and that with Adam sticking to her wing, she would still be safe enough. Hunk began talking about upgrading Blue Lion's armor, and Pidge started rattling off systems upgrades he could perform.

But everyone stopped talking immediately, their faces frozen in shock at the next four words, spoken by Keith:

"I agree with Coran."

"But Keith, who would fly Blue Lion? Nobody else is qualified," Hunk said.

"I already have a replacement." Coran replied.


	9. Safe at Home?

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything that belongs to WEP or CBS/Paramount, so don't sue me. I'm not making any money off this anyway. What I do own are the crew of the _Berlin_, except Mordock and Scotty, the fighter _Thunderwing,_ and the story itself._

_Yeah, I know, it's getting annoying with all the multi-month delays. My apologies, dear readers. Truth is, life hasn't been kind to my muses lately, and this one has been a bit challenging for me to write. This being more character-oriented than my standard format of action and intrigue. But I think I've found my direction again, and I expect to make several updates in the coming weeks._

_Thank you again for everyone who read, reviewed, and encouraged the continuation of the story. _

Star Tron: The Retreat

Chapter 9: Safe at Home?

_Starship USS Berlin_

_Orbiting Planet Arus_

Lieutenant Maria Singh checked the sensor logs again, and again, saw nothing of note. Captain Driscoll had been gone for nearly eight hours now, and they had heard nothing. With the load of fuel he'd been carrying, the Captain should be due back any time now.

As if reading her thoughts, Gredar growled, "Has the Captain appeared on sensors?"

"No, sir," Singh replied. "Nothing yet."

Gredar hissed softly in reply, the equivalent of a human "Hmmm."

Singh looked back over her shoulder at the Gorn, who now seemed to be staring at the viewer, his silvery eyes unreadable. Then she glanced at Lieutenant Curtis beside her, who shrugged.

Everyone on the ship knew about what had happened on the planet below. It was the first time since they'd arrived that Voltron had faced a major action without backup form Captain Driscoll and his fighter. The officers all had the same question on their minds: How would Driscoll react to the news?

_Cheng Nebula_

Adam "Dinoman" Driscoll banked hard to the left, raising his right wing and rolling away from the missile that came streaking ineffectually by him, detonating far ahead, the flash subdued by the clouds of nebular gas.

After several hours of dodging fire from Doom patrols, he had made it back to the Cheng Nebula. That, of course, didn't stop the Drules. They had followed him in, but now were shooting blind. Having made several course changes, Driscoll was now cruising around the nebula, waiting for his fuel supplies to replenish from the abundant hydrogen gasses. It wouldn't be long now.

Another missile streaked through the blue-green cloud, far to his left, exploding somewhere out of sight. Apparently, the Drules' sensors were no better than any other in the nebula. Only the enhanced capabilities of the sensor pod under his wing allowed even Driscoll to navigate accurately.

Seeing that he had almost enough fuel to reach Arus, Driscoll began thinking about his next problem. From the number of patrols he'd encountered, it was obvious that the shipyard had called ahead for other vessels to intercept him. It was also a safe bet by now that there were other ships out there waiting for him to emerge from the nebula.

With a little luck, he could pop out far enough from any of them to get a head start. But it would be hard to detect the ships outside the nebula until he was out of it himself, and exposed.

Ultimately, he knew he'd just have to chance it. Pop out from what he hoped would be an unexpected angle, and run like hell.

As he watched the gauges for his internal tanks pass the halfway mark, he punched off his drop tank and accelerated, pitching upward towards galactic north.

Within a few minutes, he was out of the nebula, and immediately, his warning systems went off, indicating seven individual weapon locks.

But he ignored them. Quickly manipulating his throttle controls, he went to warp as the first enemy missiles left their launchers.

But the enemy commanders would not be so easily dissuaded. They had explicitly been ordered by Lotor to destroy this fighter, and they knew better than to not exhaust every option in carrying out his orders.

So, the seven cruisers immediately set off in pursuit of _Thunderwing_. If they used all the speed their ships could muster, they just might be able to catch it before it reached the Diamond System.

_Doom Battleship Conquest of Zohar_

Prince Lotor sat heavily in a large, overstuffed armchair in his stateroom. This largest and most powerful of Doom warships was meant to be commanded by the very finest of admirals and royalty, and the commander's cabin reflected that. Unlike any other room aboard, it featured heavy wood doors mounted on brass-trimmed tracks. The room was richly appointed in tones of deep, blood red, obsidian, and brown, with thick carpets, finely carved desks and tables, plush upholstery, and a large canopy bed.

A servant had just brought him a stack of messages that had been received that day over the command frequencies. He thumbed through them, looking for a message from one of the sector commands that would, he hoped, indicate the destruction of _Thunderwing_. That plane and its pilot had been a particularly irksome thorn in his side for far too long.

Then, he noticed a message addressed to his father from Cossack. Curious, he pulled it from the stack and picked up a golden goblet full of a dark red wine. He took a sip and began to read, resting the goblet on the arm of the chair. As he read, a dark scowl crept across his face, and his lip began to curl in anger. As he finished reading the message, there was a sharp _crack_, and the resounding ring of metal shards striking together as he crushed the goblet in his hand, the wine spilling on the chair and carpet.

Bolting from his chair, he whipped the cup across the room, screaming, "Guards! Get in here!" as the cup hit the wall, snapping the crushed bowl from the stem.

_USS Berlin_

_Orbiting Planet Arus_

"Commander, I have _Thunderwing_ on sensors," said Mordock.

"He's got company, sir," Singh added. "Eight enemy cruisers."

"Intercept," Gredar rasped. "Red alert."

Curtis' hands were a blur as they flew across his console, entering the commands that turned the _Berlin_ away from Arus and sent her racing toward the besieged fighter. Overhead panels flashed red as crewmen below scrambled to man their battle stations.

"Hail _Thunderwing_," Gredar ordered. A moment later, the helmeted, masked face of Captain Driscoll appeared on the screen. "I got the goods, guys," he said, "But I seen to have a few fans. Think you can help lower the pucker factor?"

"On the way, Captain," Gredar replied.

"Much obliged, Commander." A moment later, the screen switched back to a view of the starfield ahead, though the audio connection remained, because the bridge crew could hear Driscoll cursing at the near misses.

Moments later, _Berlin_ dropped out of warp just ahead of Driscoll, who did the same, which also forced the pursuing cruisers to slow as well.

At full impulse, Driscoll approached his ship head-on. Swerving at the last minute, he rolled inverted, watching the sleek hull pass by him. "_Dammit, Mike, watch where you're going_!" he teased.

"Sorry, sir," the helmsman replied.

The Doom cruisers, seeing the starship approach, slowed and took up an attack formation. Suddenly, one of them broke low, trying to dodge around the Federation vessel and pursue _Thunderwing_. This proved to be a fatal mistake, as the cruiser was promptly cut in two by bolts of crimson energy from the _Berlin_'s phaser banks.

As _Thunderwing_ fled deeper into the system, the _Berlin_ and the Doom cruisers stood off. The Doom vessels were expecting an aggressive charge from the starship, which would afford some of them a chance to evade it and pursue the fighter. And the starship would charge, if Driscoll were on the bridge.

Gredar's tactics were different. Gorn tended to be more deliberate in their tactics, more reactionary, owing to their reptilian psyche. Vessels of the Gorn Star Navy were heavily armed and armored, designed to slug it out with opponents like a battleship of old. Likewise, their officers were trained to rely on their armor and firepower rather than mobility. Their guiding principle was to hold your ground tenaciously, and let the enemy come to you. Like a crocodile, they would lie in wait, attacking in a furious explosion of destructive force, letting their armor and shields absorb the enemy's counterattack once it committed to an action.

And so the _Berlin _sat there, a great blue-white crocodile in the cosmic ocean, watching its prey. Her commander studied the viewscreen with expressionless, silver eyes.

Waiting.

The attack came from the right side.

Three cruisers rushed in, lasers blazing, rockets flying from the launchers on their flanks.

"Starboard twenty" Gredar hissed. "Point defense. Fire torpedoes."

The _Berlin_ lunged at the attacking warships, lasers flashing against her shields as the few completed ion dart launchers laid down a defensive phalanx that shredded the missiles and a spread of photon torpedoes burst from the launchers at the sides of the sharship's hul. Eight of them hit their targets, reducing the cruisers to smoldering wreckage, and crippling a third, sending it tumbling.

But the other four had not been idle. As _Berlin_ turned, they rushed past, one ineffectually raking the Federation ship with laser fire.

Now, the starship turned away, ignoring the cripple as it slowly righted itself and began to move away.

"Pursuit course," Gredar ordered.

Curtis set and engaged on course immediately, without waiting for the traditional order of "engage". Gredar seldom gave it. The crew knew that his orders were terse and to the point, and were to be carried out fully, without superfluous words. Gredar always spoke little, but said much.

_Thunderwing_

A series of laser blasts shook his plane, and Driscoll looked back at the four Doom ships on his tail. Cursing, he broke hard to the left to evade a missile, rolling into a split-S to resume his course.

"C'mon, Godzilla, where the _hell_ are you?" he said under his breath. Even with the sensor pod on his wing, at this point, Driscoll would turn and fight if he had any torpedoes or missiles. But armed with only his phasers, he couldn't do much to the enemy ship.

Pulling up, he dodged another volley of laser fire, then rolled and dove to avoid a second. He especially had to be on his toes now, with his rear thrusters out. It was almost impossible for him to push over. Instead, he had to roll and peel.

Glancing at his mirror, he suddenly saw one of the skullships explode, fiery wreckage spinning away in every direction. The other ships pulled sharply away from their comrade's burning remains, and Driscoll saw his opening.

Breaking hard left, the momentum pushing him down into his seat, he came around, flying between several large pieces of debris as he made for the _Berlin_ again. As he expected, the three remaining Doom ships came around after him. It was their last mistake.

A moment later, the _Berlin_ flashed by him, not a kilometer away as it came out of warp again, turning toward the enemy ships. The three Doom vessels tried to turn away, firing wildly, but it was already too late. In a storm of phaser fire, the _Berlin_ shredded her opponents, leaving nothing but charred debris and burned out hulks drifting through space.

Driscoll fell into formation with his ship, just under the port side of the saucer, and opened a new channel. "Good work, guys," he said. "And don't worry about Coran. He'll understand about you going into combat with the Princess aboard, given the circumstances."

"She is not aboard, Captain. She is on Arus," Gredar replied.

"There was a robeast attack while you were away," Jacobs elaborated. "The Princess was injured. They don't know if she'll be all right."

"I see." Driscoll said slowly. He said nothing more. Closing the channel, his thoughts were whirling as he almost unconsciously dropped back and set up his landing approach.


	10. Recovery

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything that belongs to WEP or CBS/Paramount, so don't sue me. I'm not making any money off this anyway. What I do own are the crew of the _Berlin_, except Mordock and Scotty, the fighter _Thunderwing,_ and the story itself._

Star Tron: The Retreat

Chapter 10: Recovery

_USS Berlin_

_Orbiting Arus_

Driscoll hadn't spoken much to anyone since he landed. After telling the shuttlebay techs to take the sensor pod off of his wing, and not to touch the damaged thrusters, he'd gone to his quarters, showered, and changed. Now, wearing a standard uniform instead of his usual flight suit, he headed for the transporter room, and from there to the Castle of Lions.

He walked briskly through the corridors, his uniform jacket half open, nodding curtly to the castle guards when they acknowledged him. He didn't want to waste time on formalities. And he didn't want to be stopped by Keith or anyone else. He was going to the infirmary. Period.

Before he realized it, he was there. In the corner of the waiting area, Keith was sitting quietly. Looking up at the sound of the door, the Voltron Force commander watched Adam walk in, and rose to meet him.

"How'd it go?"

Driscoll shook his head. "You ain't gonna like what I found, Boss. Data's being analyzed now." He nodded toward the door to the ICU, where he had just seen Dr. Gorma go. "What happened?"

Keith told him about the battle, and how the robeast had deliberately targeted Allura. All the time, Adam was shaking his head. "It doesn't make sense, Keith. Lotor wouldn't let Zarkon attack Allura. At least, not kill her."

"If he knew."

Driscoll's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Zarkon knows how obsessed Lotor is with Allura. He knows Lotor would get in the way."

"You think he's going behind Lotor's back?"

"He'd have to be," Keith concluded.

"But then if Lotor found out… things could get interesting."

Keith shook his head, his hair swishing in front of his face for a moment. "Remember, Zarkon's still the one in control. All he has to do is keep the right people quiet, and Lotor's oblivious."

"Well yeah, but how…" Even as he said it, the thought came to him:

The battleship.

Lotor was probably sent to take command of the battleship. With him that far out in the galactic boonies, it would be easy to keep him from finding out about what was happening on Arus until it was far too late.

Before he could share his thoughts with Keith, the commander spoke up. "Adam, Coran and I need to talk to you, if you have a minute."

He looked at Keith in surprise. "Uh…" He looked at the ICU door, but saw no sign of it opening. Dr. Gorma was still working. "Yeah, I guess."

Keith nodded, and led the way out of the infirmary.

**************************************************************************************************************************************************

The heavy armored blast doors of Castle Control whirred open, and Coran looked over his shoulder from his seat at the main console, watching Keith and Adam approach. Standing as they reached the control station, he spoke to Adam. "Captain, I'm pleased to see you back safely."

"Thanks, Coran. So what did you need to see me about?"

"I assume Commander Keith has told you what happened in your absence?"

"Yeah, he filled me in. What's up?"

"In light of recent events, we have decided that the Princess must be permanently relieved of combat duty."

Driscoll looked at Coran incredulously. "You're serious?" he asked skeptically.

Coran nodded.

Adam scoffed, an edge of anger creeping into his voice. "Well, I'd love to know who you've got in mind for a replacement. There's only five people on this planet who can fly the Lions." He crossed his arms, looking expectantly at Coran.

"There _is_ one other," Coran replied.

"Oh yeah? Who?" Adam asked curtly.

"You." Keith said.

Adam's face changed from skepticism to shock. "You gotta be kidding me. I flew that think _once_. On a landing approach. And Allura was coaching me in the whole time. And even then, it was no T-6 ride."

Adam was angry. Here were Allura's two most trusted friends, one of them almost her father, and they were planning her removal from the one thing she loved most. Flying. Protecting her people. To him, they were committing the grossest of betrayals. After all she had done for her people, all she had fought and sacrificed for… A scowl darkened his face.

But then, he realized that they were only doing it to protect her. She had been hurt badly, and Arus could ill afford to lose the Princess. But still, protection was always the last thing she sought. Time and again, she went into battle on be half of her people, seeking not to receive protection, but to provide it.

Despite this logic, the concept remained wholly unpalatable to the young captain. "It would take me weeks before I could be combat-ready in that thing. And we don't have that kind of time."

Seeing the emotion on Adam's face, Coran realized that time was running short, and that there was a real danger of Driscoll refusing the assignment. He had long ago realized that the captain was a man of strong convictions. "Adam, you must," he implored. "We cannot afford to be without Voltron."

"No, we can't," Adam allowed. "And Princess Allura is Blue Lion's rightful pilot."

"Out of the question, Captain. Allura can never fly again." Coran's great experience as a diplomat allowed him to see Driscoll's maneuver developing, and head it off.

Keith jumped in. "Zarkon knows the Princess is hurt. He's probably already putting together an invasion force. We're going to need Voltron."

Driscoll sighed. He knew there wasn't really much choice. The fact was that Allura could not fly, nor would she for some time. Regardless of who _should_ fly Blue Lion, Adam knew that, for the moment, he was the only one who _could_. "All right, I'll do it. For now." Even as he said it, his spirits sank. He felt like he had just joined in Allura's betrayal. But the beginnings of an idea began to creep into his mind. An idea just crazy enough to work.

Before his thoughts could jell, Coran's console beeped. It was Dr. Gorma calling to say that Allura was awake.

*************************************************************************************************************************************************

When Adam and Keith got to the infirmary, nanny was already in the waiting area. Coran had stayed behind to watch the sensors, and Keith would spell him later.

Dr. Gorma came out of the ICU and addressed the group. "She's a bit groggy, but everything seems to be all right. There're no obvious signs of neurological damage. I'll keep her here for another day or two though, just to be sure."

"Can we see her?" Keith asked. A moment later, Lance, Hunk, and Pidge came jogging through the door.

Dr. Gorma frowned at their noisy entry. "Yes, but please be brief."

*************************************************************************************************************************************************

Allura heard the voices outside, and a moment later, she saw a red shape walking toward her. Squinting, she identified the Voltron Force Commander.

"Keith," she said quietly. "What happened?"

He looked at her. Her eyes were half-lidded and an IV was connected to her left arm. Her hair was disheveled, and she was very pale. A small cut across her forehead, and another on her cheek were held closed with butterflies.

Keith's heart ached to see her like this, and he hated Zarkon for doing this to her. This wasn't how she should be, crippled, confined to a hospital bed. She was a lively, spirited young woman, and this was a horrible alternative.

"You took a bad hit," Keith told her. "But you're going to be okay."

"What about the others?"

"They're fine. Everyone else is fine," Keith replied softly, smiling reassuringly, laying a comforting hand on hers.

Allura nodded. She didn't ask if the robeast was dead. She didn't have to. If the rest of the team was all right, and Keith was here, then the robeast had to be gone.

Keith glanced back at the door and saw the others waiting. He didn't want to leave, but he knew this wasn't the time to be selfish.

"The others want to stop in and say 'hi'. I'll be back to see you later, Princess."

Allura nodded, and Kieth turned, walking toward the door.

************************************************************************************************************************************************

Adam watched quietly while the rest of the Voltron Force filed in and out of Allura's room. He decided not to tell Allura about how he'd been asked to fly Blue Lion. She had enough problems. Besides, she'd find out soon enough. Chances were that Nanny would happily tell her all about it.

Besides, he didn't intend to keep flying Blue. _Thunderwing_ was his mount. Allura was Blue Lion's pilot. She was the only one, besides Sven, who belonged in that cockpit. As he saw it, his flying Blue would be a temporary measure. Keith was right about them needing Voltron, but once Allura was well, that would be it.

Somehow, though, he knew it wouldn't be that simple. Coran and Nanny would probably try to keep Allura grounded, and there was only so much Keith and the others could do about it.

But if he could find a way to get Allura back in the air…

His thoughts were interrupted by someone touching his shoulder. He looked up to see Hunk standing next to him. The big guy jerked his head toward the ICU door, indicating that it was Adam's turn to see Allura. Only Nanny and Dr. Gorma were still in the waiting area as Adam got up and walked in.

"Hey, Ally. Heard you took a hell of a hit."

Allura smiled wanly. "So I'm told."

Adam half smiled in return. "Meh, we both know this is just an excuse to get out of your test."

Allura didn't reply. She just frowned at him.

"And yes, you're still getting it as soon as you're better," Adam added, raising one eyebrow.

Now Allura laughed. It was just a couple of cough-like noises, but Adam recognized it for what it was. "What did you find out there?" she asked him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Adam saw Dr. Gorma standing in the doorway, and knew his time was up. "I'll tell you all about it later, Ally. We still have to process the data." He looked over his shoulder and acknowledged the doctor with a nod. "I should probably head back and check on it. I'll see you later."

"All right, Adam. Bye." She managed a small wave.

"Check six, Wheels."

Dr. Gorma stepped aside to let the captain pass, then went in, with Nanny close behind him.

Stepping out into the corridor, Adam found it empty. Just as well. He wasn't feeling very sociable now. He tapped his badge. "Driscoll to _Berlin_."

"_Jacobs here, sir._"

"Put me through to Captain Scott."

A moment later, a thick brogue said, "_Scott here_."

"Hey, Scotty. You busy?"

"_Not particularly, sir. What can I do for ye_?"

"I could use a hand with those busted thrusters on my plane, if you don't mind." He'd thought about asking Hunk and Pidge, but they'd probably be busy fixing Blue Lion.

"_Aye, sir. I can do that_."

"Great. See you in the shuttlebay in about twenty minutes. Driscoll out."


	11. Cats Don't Always Land On Their Feet

_Author's Note: Yeah, I know, I'm horrible at updating this one. But, without going into gory detail, let's just say that the fates haven't been kind of late, and the story kind of got lost in the shuffle. I'm really hoping to have this one wrapped up by Thanksgiving though. I've pretty much got the rest outlined, it's just a matter of finding time to commit it to digital print. So enough about me. On with it!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything that belongs to WEP or CBS/Paramount, so don't sue me. I'm not making any money off this anyway. What I do own are the crew of the _Berlin_, except Mordock and Scotty, the fighter _Thunderwing,_ and the story itself._

Star Tron: The Retreat

Chapter 11: Cats Don't Always Land On Their Feet

Cossack walked through Castle Doom, heading for Zarkon's throne room. The Commander had spent the past two days celebrating his victory at Arus and the imminent defeat of Voltron. No matter that he was little more than the transporter for the robeast, which was Haggar's creation. Several guards were heard to comment on how, to hear him talk, he had defeated Voltron himself, alone and bare-handed.

He swaggered into the throne room, striding boldly to the foot of the king's throne. Even the dark scowl Zarkon wore didn't faze him today.

"Well, you seem to be in a good mood," Zarkon said flatly.

"Indeed I am, Sire."

"Curious, considering your recent failure."

This drew Cossack up short. "F-f-failure, Sire?"

Zarkon glowered at him, then stood, pointing his golden scepter at him. "Yes, _failure_, Cossack! You were sent to destroy Princess Allura. One woman! And even at this simple task, you fail miserably! You should be cowering before me like the worthless dog you are!"

Cossack shriveled back from Zarkon's rage, cowering in terror. "B-b-but, King Zarkon, it was Haggar's robeast that was supposed to finish the deed. I was merely in charge of transport."

"Haggar's role will be dealt with soon enough," Zarkon replied.

"But, Sire…"

"ENOUGH! I've had enough of your sniveling, Cossack! Be glad I'm not going to throw you into the Pit of Skulls!"

Cossack didn't know whether to bow or salute, and so did something in between as he stepped back from the throne. "Yes, Sire! Thank you, Sire!"

"Get out of my sight. Go prepare your fleet. There may still be time for you to make good on this colossal foul-up you call a career."

This time, Cossack managed a passable bow. "As you command, King Zarkon." He quickly turned and scurried from the room.

As Cossack left the chamber, Zarkon spoke, apparently to himself. "It seems no one can do anything right around here. Even my son allows that infernal starship captain to follow him and discover our most powerful weapon. Even a simple supply mission is beyond him, Haggar."

The witch materialized from the shadows in a dark recess of the throne room, her blue cat in her arms. "An inconvenience, Sire. Nothing more. You yourself approved the plans for the shipyard's defense systems, which were modified specifically to repel the _Berlin_. Your investment is completely safe."

"As long as my nincompoop son doesn't cash it in." Zarkon replied dryly. "And don't think for a minute that you're off the hook, witch. Your robeast was supposed to _kill_ Allura, not just put her in the hospital. I want her _dead_."

Haggar stroked her cat, her head bent low. "My Lord, the robeast landed a full-force blow to Blue Lion's head, directly to the cockpit area. It is mere chance that saved her."

The king's eyes flashed with anger as he glared at her. "I don't want excuses, Haggar. I want _results_!" He sat down heavily in his throne. "You will go to Arus and clean up your mess."

"It will take several days to select a new robeast."

"Then go and do it yourself. Stop depending on robots to do your dirty work."

"But, Sire…"

"No buts! Do it! You're lucky I find you so useful, or I'd have disposed of you long ago. Your record is almost as bad as Lotor's."

The two Drules stared at each other, saying nothing for a long moment. Haggar knew that Zarkon wasn't joking. He was the only one Haggar truly feared. Not in the form of physical harm, but she knew that he had means of getting things done that even _she_ was unaware of.

Finally, it was the witch who relented. As always. "As you command, Sire."

*************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Captain Scott walked into the shuttlebay, a case of tools slung over his shoulder, a few extra items tucked into the pockets on the black work vest he wore over his yellow uniform tunic. The vest hadn't been part of a regulation uniform in decades, but Scotty favored it for its utility. Not that anyone had said anything about it. Being one of Starfleet's greatest engineers had its perks.

Driscoll's fighter was parked in the middle of the bay with the ragged, damaged skin and armor panels already removed. Driscoll himself had shed his uniform jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He had his hands up to his elbows inside the thruster housing. Scott walked up beside him. "What can I do for ye, Captain?"

Driscoll didn't look up as he replied. "Well, I gotta get these thrusters changed, so if you could start on the other side, that'd be awesome."

Scott nodded and set to work. He had the starboard thruster out before Driscoll had finished with the port. "I guess ye must be in some rush to get this done." He said.

"Yep," said Driscoll, grunting as he cracked a bolt loose and started extracting it. "God knows how long we've got before those Doomies come back. I gotta get this bird back in the air fast."

Peering into the thruster chamber, Scotty saw the ruptured hydrazine tank. The damage was actually fairly minor, and it was no great task to weld the hole shut. Scott had just finished sealing the rupture when, with a loud _clank_ and a curse, Driscoll's thruster fell to the deck. The two new thrusters were already waiting on carts nearby, and after checking Scott's weld, the two officers started to install them.

"Scotty, you've seen the Lions in action. You've talked to Hunk and Pidge about them, right?"

Scott frowned as he worked. "Aye…" he replied, setting the bolts in place on the support frame, checking alignments before tightening them down.

Driscoll continued. "Do you think we could do anything to make them safer? I mean, like, for the pilot?"

Scott thought a moment. "I assume ye'r talking abou' the beatin' Princess Allura took?"

"I'm filling in as Blue's pilot for a while, but yeah. Thing is, I need help convincing Coran to let Allura fly again, and the case would be easier to make with some ideas for safety improvements."

Scott looked at the young captain knowingly. "And, if ye don' mind me askin', sir, is yer interest in the matter professional or personal?"

Driscoll looked for a moment like he'd been caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar. "Kinda both. But the end result is that we need her back in Blue Lion."

Scott thought a minute as he worked. Finally, he nodded. "Aye, there might be a few things we could do for all yer lions. I can draw up somethin' for ye' in a day or two."

Driscoll smiled. "Thanks, Scotty."

*************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

The next morning dawned crisp and clear over the Castle of Lions. Once more, a lone white streak crossed the sky, high above. But now, it didn't stay high. Singing its whistling, whining tune of wind and propwash, _Thunderwing_ dropped toward the Castle, making several wide circles to reduce speed before landing and rolling into the repair bay.

A few minutes later, Blue Lion walked hesitantly out into the gray morning light.

Captain Driscoll sat in the newly-repaired cockpit, the smell of fresh solder and lubricants lingering in the air. He looked around, scanning the confusing array of switches and dials. He'd been up all night memorizing cockpit diagrams that Hunk had given him, and he knew most of them. But still…

Adding to the disorientation was the odd sensation that he wasn't alone in the cockpit. There was a presence, and it did not welcome him.

"Look, Blue," he muttered. "I don't like this any more than you, but we both know why I'm here, so how's about you cut me a little slack, huh?"

Gripping the control yokes, his feet sitting tensely on the pedals, he took Blue Lion for a leisurely walk, getting used to the feel of the great cat. Again, he felt that sense of incredible power, barely contained and eager to be unleashed. He heard and felt the Lion's heavy footfalls reverberating through the structure. Controlling the Lion on the ground was a lot like riding a horse.

He pulled back on the yoke. Now, instead of stopping, the Lion leapt into the sky.

_Wait…how..? _he wondered. He had wanted to take off, but he hadn't touched anything. He wasn't even sure how to switch from land to air operations.

_Weird_.

Now he accelerated, tilting the rudder pedals like gas pedals, rocketing upward, rolling, then pushing over, tumbling twice, and landing heavily, awkwardly, almost falling over but recovering in time.

_Not _too_ bad…_

The controls were heavier than his Mustang, stiffer, but it didn't seem to work against the Lion's mobility. A strange combination of ponderous and agile.

As he started to walk away toward the Castle again, his headset crackled. "Hey_, you figure out where the gas pedal is yet_?" Lance teased.

"Well, I can walk and fly, and I think I can maneuver."

"_Then get up here_." Keith ordered.

"Aye, aye, Boss." Adam replied. Once again, the Lion leapt into the air and joined up with the others.

************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Practice that morning was grueling, and Keith spared Adam no test. The other members of the Voltron Force figured that there must be some language as blue as the Lion flying around that cockpit. Blue Lion was frequently out of formation and off-target. Adam looked less like an experienced pilot and more like the greenest of rookies. On one attack run, he didn't pull out in time, and instead crashed into the ground, the Lion tumbling head-over-tail until it finally came to rest against a rock formation.

Driscoll shook his head to clear the cobwebs out as he looked at his attitude display in the inverted cockpit, and sighed. He righted the cat, settling it onto its massive steel haunches in a sitting position. He wondered what he was doing so wrong. He knew how to fly. He was good at it. He knew the Force's tactics cold. But he was somehow badly behind the curve.

Then he felt the presence again, and he recalled what Allura had told him about the Lions. How they were more than just machines. They had an essence. Almost a soul…

"Okay, Cat. You don't like me, and I'm not very fond of you right now, but Allura's down, and for the time being, that makes us partners. We've got a job to do here. One that's bigger than the both of us. So how's about meeting me half way here?"

For a second, Driscoll believed he heard a slight change in the sound of the machinery, and he got a strange feeling. Almost like taking a deep breath after a tense moment.

Taking the control yoke in his hands again, he pulled back, and the Lion jumped into the air.

"_You all right, Adam_?" Keith asked.

"Good to go, Keith. Just a little shook up." Adam replied, forming up with the others.

For the rest of practice, Adam noticed that the Lion was more responsive somehow. Its movements were smoother, more fluid, although there was still an edge of hesitance. He still drifted out of position at times, and the attack runs and combat maneuvers were still a little rough around the edges, but it was getting better.

************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

After landing Blue Lion in its lair, Driscoll came up the tube.

"A fair first outing, Captain," Coran commented as the pillar containing the launch tubes retracted back into the floor.

"I can do better, now that I know the score with Blue," Driscoll replied. He headed out of the Control Room and made his way to the infirmary. Finding the door to the ICU standing open, he walked in, seeing Allura sound asleep. He walked over to the bed, sitting in a chair beside it. He watched her sleeping for several minutes, then took her hand gently.

"I'm sorry, Ally," he whispered. "I should have been there with you. You needed me, and I wasn't there." He paused, staring at her closed eyes, then back down at her hand. "Blue's all fixed up. I took him up this morning. He's fighting me, Ally. I'm not the one who belongs in that cockpit. _You_ are. Hurry up and get better so we can get back to normal." He looked at her calm, serene face, deep in sleep. "You belong up there with us, Ally. We miss you. _I _miss you."

He looked at the door. Seeing that nobody was there, he kissed the back of Allura's hand, and laid it back on the bed.

Walking out of the ICU, he saw Nanny walking in. "She's asleep," he said quietly. "Tell her I said 'hi' when she wakes up." He was expecting a lecture in propriety, but Nanny just nodded. "I'll give her your regards, Captain."

Adam nodded and left the infirmary.


	12. Cloak and Dagger

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything that belongs to WEP or CBS/Paramount, so don't sue me. I'm not making any money off this anyway. What I do own are the crew of the _Berlin_, except Mordock and Scotty, the fighter _Thunderwing,_ and the story itself._

_Well, having a broken leg can have its advantages.... for you! Yep, the temporarily-grounded Ace has found some needed time to catch up. Enjoy._

Star Tron: The Retreat

Chapter 12: Cloak and Dagger

_U.S.S Berlin_

_Orbiting Arus_

"This is the Doom battleship _Conquest of Zohar_. Codename: _Bismarck."_

The screen in the _Berlin_'s conference room displayed an enhanced image of the Doom vessel from the scans Driscoll had taken two days before. The Captain, his senior crew, Coran and the Voltron Force were seated around the large, wood table. Lieutenant-Commander Jacobs stood by the screen, giving the briefing.

"Armament appears to be 16 laser cannons mounted along the center line, with 180 degrees of lateral swing, and 100 degrees of elevation range. There are also at least twelve missile racks, and dozens of smaller emplacements of various sizes."

"Think 'flak wall'." said Driscoll.

"Twice as large as a standard battleship," Jacobs continued, "and a magnitude greater in firepower and armor, comparable to our own." She paused, looking at the others. "We estimate it has a capacity to carry some 400 fighters, and we've identified two torpedo tubes that appear to be modified to launch robeast coffins."

A few low whistles and 'whew's followed this last statement. Everyone in the room knew how much trouble two robeasts could dish out in a simultaneous attack. The thought of this combined with the _Zohar'_s firepower was downright discomforting.

"So when do we hit it?" Curtis asked.

Driscoll looked over approvingly at his chief helmsman, then shook his head slightly. "Not so fast, Mike. The defenses around that sucker are tighter than a Ferengi's purse strings. Remote emplacements, fighter patrols, cruisers… and then there's the battlewagon itself."

"You're saying you can't attack it?" Keith asked.

"Not while she's in dock. Hell no. I'm crazy, not stupid."

"It's only a matter of time before Zarkon sends her against us," Coran observed.

"Or a friendly planet," said Lance.

"And _that_'_s_ when we hit the sumbitch." He didn't see the disapproving look his comment earned from the security chief and a few others of his crew. Several of the senior staff still highly disapproved of his rather casual use of colorful language. "Thing is, she's no threat in dock. Even if we land a few solid torpedo hits, we can send her back. I'd rather destroy her, but keeping her in a repair bay isn't a bad fall-back."

"Like the British did to the _Tirpitz_ in Earth's second World War," said Saladin.

"Right, Sheik."

"The Alliance is keeping a close watch on Doom communications, and so are we. We'll know when she moves," said Singh.

"We should draw her out."

All eyes turned immediately to the Gorn. His statement, characteristically brief, stunned them all.

"What's on your mind, Gredar?" Driscoll asked.

"Lay outside their defenses and attack from range. Wear down the defenses until they send the _Zohar_ out to challenge."

"Sounds awful risky," said Pidge.

"It might work," Coran opined.

"Yeah, it could," Driscoll agreed. "But we're not doing anything until the ion dart launchers are finished. We're gonna need the point-defense against that thing."

"Until then, we watch and wait," said Jacobs.

**********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

_Allura…_

The Princess stirred, her eyes fluttered open. She saw a familiar form by the side of her bed.

_Allura…_

She sat up, and then stood. "Father?"

King Alfor took a step back. "My daughter, you are in terrible danger. Zarkon will stop at nothing to do you mortal harm."

"I'm not afraid, Father."

"He believes that Voltron's power lies with my house, and he seeks to undo that power. But Voltron is greater than any one Lion, or its pilot. Draw strength from his power, Allura, for you will need it before this is over."

Allura looked at her father's spirit, confused. "Draw strength from where, Father? What's coming?"

"I can tell you no more, darling Allura. Draw your strength from the same well as Voltron, and you will succeed. Farewell."

Her eyes snapped open, and she anxiously scanned the room. The lights were dimmed, but the room was unfamiliar. She was in a different bed, and her IV was gone.

"Ah, you're awake."

She turned to see who had spoken. Her vision was still blurry, but she saw a shape coming toward her. A man tall and dark…

Dr. Richard Saladin stopped beside her bed. "How are you feeling, Princess?"

"I can't see well."

"I expected that," Saladin said, nodding. "It is residual from your head injury. Your vision will return to normal over the next few days."

"Why am I here?"

Saladin checked her vitals as he spoke. "Coran asked us to bring you aboard. You seem to be out of immediate danger, but I'm prescribing strict bed rest for two more days."

Allura groaned.

"I'm sorry, Princess. Dr. Gorma and I have already discussed it." She knew a 'that's final' tone when she heard one.

"Is the Captain around?"

The doctor glanced down at her. "It's 0200, Your Highness. He'll probably be asleep."

She sighed.

"Everything looks all right for now," Saladin said finally. He looked from the bio readouts to the Princess. "Get some sleep, Your Highness."

*******************************************************************************************************************************************************************

_Town of Shavena_

_Arus_

The early morning twilight on Arus was dimmed by a thick overcast, threatening rain later that day.

Lieutenant Miguel Ramirez was walking down a small side street in Shavena, heading toward his duty station. Ramirez was part of a Starfleet Corps of Engineers detachment that had been detailed to assist in the reconstruction and modernization of Shavena Harbor.

Turning down an alley, he could already hear the sounds of construction, and see the cargo shuttles sipping by over the harbor. Reading the PADD in his hand, catching up on the latest news, he almost didn't hear the woman calling out to him.

"Please, help me!"

Ramirez looked up, freezing in his tracks, his hand moving toward the phaser on his hip. "Who's there?"

"Over here. Please…"

Following the voice, he cautiously walked toward a doorway. Sitting on the threshold was a young woman, maybe in her early twenties, slender, with long. blond hair and wearing a simple yet attractive dress typical of Arusian women, she had on leg stretched out in front of her.

She looked up at him. "Thank the gods you're here. I tripped over a brick and fell. I think my ankle's broken. I can't walk on it."

"All right, miss, hold on." Ramirez knelt and reached out to touch her ankle, palpating it to see if it were really broken, or only sprained.

Suddenly, he felt a searing pain, like his whole body was in fire. He wanted to scream, but nothing more than a strangled gasp escaped his lips as he collapsed to the ground. As the darkness claimed him, he looked up at the girl, and his last thought was to wonder why her eyes were glowing yellow.

Haggar knelt beside Ramirez's body, placing her hand on his shoulder. Moments later, Ramirez was gone, and Haggar had taken his form.

She picked up the PADD and phaser, and tapped her badge. "Ramirez to _Berlin_, requesting beam –up," she said, her voice taking on Ramirez's tenor.

"Stand by," came the reply.

A moment later, she felt a tingling sensation as the transporter deconstructed her atoms and whisked her away to the orbiting starship.

**********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

_USS Berlin_

_Orbiting Arus_

The transporter technician nodded to Ramirez as he stepped down off the platform. "Where you headed, Lieutenant?"

Haggar paused. As carefully as she'd planned her attack, she'd forgotten to create a reason _why_ she was aboard the ship. She knew little of military matters, but she knew that vessels were always guarded, and non-crewmembers were not allowed on board without good reason.

Feeling the PADD in her hand, a reason came to her. "Message for Princess Allura from Shavena. Her eyes only, classified."

The tech nodded. "She's in sickbay. You know the way?"

"I'll find it," Haggar replied, and headed out of the room.

Adam sat beside Allura's bed. "How's it going, Ally?"

"Better" she said. "It'll be nice to get out of the hospital."

Adam laughed. "Yeah. I can think of more romantic places to meet up."

Allura frowned. "What?"

Driscoll realized his slip and mentally backpedaled, stuttering. "Um, nothing… I, uh… It was… just a joke." He paused to recollect himself, then changed the subject. "Anyway, I brought you some reading material," he said, handing Allura a PADD.

Allura looked at it, recognizing it immediately as _Thunderwing_'s specs. "Finish reading over the engine and power systems data."

"I'm not so great with reading at the moment," she reminded him. With the medication she'd been given, and now that the lights were up and she was more awake than she'd been early this morning, she found that she could see well enough at least within a few feet of her. Beyond that, things became a bit fuzzy.

"Oh, yeah, well, when you get the chance then."

"Allura nodded. "All right." She reached up and took it from him, her fingers brushing his, lingering a moment longer than necessary. Adam looked at her, and their eyes locked, both smiling softly.

Allura suddenly blushed and looked down. "Sorry."

Before Adam could reply, he heard a door open, and Dr. Saladin speaking to someone, followed by the unmistakable whine of a phaser shot.

"Security to sickbay!" Driscoll bellowed, whirling around, putting himself between Allura and whoever had fired. He saw and unfamiliar lieutenant walking toward them, his phaser trained on Driscoll.

"Stand down, Lieutenant," Driscoll commanded firmly. Instinctively, he reached for his phaser pistol, only to realize he wasn't wearing it.

"Well, two for the price of one. King Zarkon will be most pleased," said the Lieutenant. But the voice had become noticeably more feminine. It was high-pitched and scratchy. Adam knew that voice.

"Haggar!" He lunged, but the witch fired, catching Adam in the shoulder, spinning him to the deck, where he lay still.

The disguised witch looked at Allura. "One down, my Princess. A pity you have to die," she said, reverting to her true form. "Prince Lotor would pay handsomely if I were to deliver you to him." She pulled a knife from the folds of her robes, a wicked, serrated blade. She held it above Allura's chest, poised to strike at her heart. Allura tried to defend herself, but found her arms and legs leaden and immobile. "I know, 'why the knife'? Well, let's just say I enjoy a dramatic flare now and again."

Suddenly, she shrieked and fell backwards. Allura, suddenly free, looked down and saw Adam grappling with the witch. The phaser had been set to low stun, and the glancing blow had only dazed the Captain. He'd shaken off the effects, hooked his legs around the witch's, and rolled, knocking her to the deck, the knife clattering away.

"Ally, run!" he shouted, rolling over and over with the witch, trying to pin her. He saw Allura step shakily out of bed, and hustle toward the door.

"Not so fast, Highness!" Haggar reached a hand toward Allura, and a faint purple aura glowed around the Princess' ankles, a moment before they snapped together as if she'd been lassoed, tumbling her into a wall.

"Bitch!" Adam cursed the witch, wrapping his arm around hers and pulling it away as he rolled again.

Suddenly, Haggar was on top, one hand around Adam's throat. "You _are_ a nuisance, boy," she hissed, squeezing his throat. Adam gasped, trying desperately to breathe as Haggar tightened her grip, and his vision started to darken. He suddenly felt very weak, unable to fight her. "I'll take great pleasure in squeezing the life out of you."

"Do it and you're next," said a firm, female voice.

*********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Commander Jacobs had rushed to sickbay as soon as Driscoll's call went out. When she got there, Allura was sitting on the deck against a bulkhead, unable to move her legs, and Haggar was strangling the Captain.

The witch looked up, seeing six phasers pointed at her. "I'll kill him before you can shoot. I embrace the company of the dark spirits."

But her boldness was only a cover. She knew her time was up. She'd failed. There was no way she could get to Allura now. Looking over, she saw the Princess being helped away by two guards, another dragging Saladin to safety.

Suddenly, her arm exploded in pain and she felt a boot kick her hard in the side, knocking her off the Captain. She spun to her feet, dodging around beds as she was chased by phasers. Jacobs lifted Driscoll to his feet and led him out of the compartment. Suddenly, there was a flash and a cloud of smoke. When it cleared, Haggar was gone.

Jacobs kept a steadying hand on her captain as he stood there, coughing, rubbing his throat. "Goddamn, mother…"

Jacobs ignored his language. He had a right to it this time. She tapped her combadge. "Jacobs to bridge, intruder alert, sickbay."

Driscoll looked at her. "I owe you one, T.J."

"I'll put it on your tab, sir."

"Keep a detail with Allura. Let's get to the bridge."

**********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

_Planet Arus_

Haggar cursed herself as she hurried through the woods toward the space-coffin she'd arrived in. The local Starfleet detachments probably hadn't been alerted yet, so she had a little time, but not much.

It had been perfect. She'd taken that Starfleeter without a struggle, snuck aboard the _Berlin_, defeated the security. She'd even had her knife poised above Allura's heart, ready to finish her.

She had to hand it to Driscoll. The boy had a talent for meddling in her plans. Today, the fates had favored him. It would be the last time. She'd see to that.

**********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

_USS Berlin_

_Orbiting Arus_

"Captain, unknown craft lifting off from Arus," Mordock reported.

Driscoll glanced at the Benzite, then turned to Jacobs. "Red alert." His head snapped around to the front. "Helm, engage intercept course." The _Berlin_ surged forward as Mordock positively identified Haggar's space coffin.

"Lock phasers," Driscoll ordered. "I want that shriveled old bitch vaporized." Several seconds passed, Driscoll staring intently at the viewer. _Think you can just invade my ship, attack my crew, me, and get away with it. Think again. And attacking Allura? Oh, you goin' down. Just too bad it'll be over before you can suffer much._

"Time to phaser range?" Gredar asked.

"Twelve seconds" Jacobs replied.

"On my mark," Driscoll ordered, counting down to himself.

But now, he was the one underestimating his opponent. Just as Jacobs announced that they were in range, the space coffin began to multiply, again and again, twisting and dodging until the whole screen was filled with a swarm of space coffins.

"Lost the lock, I don't know which one is her," Jacobs reported.

"Then shoot 'em all!"

The starship's phasers began lashing out, striking at every possible target, only to see them disappear, then reappear a moment later.

"Torpedo spread. Detonate among the targets," Gredar ordered.

Driscoll smiled. He liked where his XO's head was at.

Suddenly, all the coffins disappeared.

"All targets gone. No contacts," said Jacobs.

"Confirmed," said Singh, staring at her ops console. "Sensors are clear."

Driscoll scowled, but said nothing. Once again, it seemed, Haggar had escaped to menace them another day.

Finally, he rose, ordering, "Resume orbit, stand down battle stations. I'll be in sickbay," he added, heading for the turbolift. As he passed Jacobs, he said, "From now on, all unannounced visitors are to be escorted by security, unless Gredar or I say otherwise. No exceptions."

"Aye, Captain."

Driscoll nodded, and stepped into the turbolift.


	13. Can You Smell What's Cookin?

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything that belongs to WEP or CBS/Paramount, so don't sue me. I'm not making any money off this anyway. What I do own are the crew of the _Berlin_, except Mordock and Scotty, the fighter _Thunderwing,_ and the story itself._

Star Tron: The Retreat

Chapter 13: Can You Smell What's Cookin'?

_USS Berlin_

_Orbiting Arus_

Late in the evening, Allura was sitting on the couch in her cabin, reading through the PADD Adam had given her. After the incident in sickbay yesterday, and given what Dr. Saladin called "acceptable progress", she was released from sickbay, provided she restrict her activities for the next few days. Given her extreme distaste for hospitals, it had been an easy condition to accept.

Two guards were now posted outside her door, and all biosigns in her room were being monitored from the bridge, to guard against intruders.

Finishing the PADD at last, she set it down on the glass coffee table in front of her. She knew it would take some practice before she was totally comfortable, but she nonetheless felt confident that she could handle _Thunderwing_.

But would she get the chance?

She knew Coran had asked Adam to fly Blue while she recovered. Nanny had told her about the decision to ground her. It seemed like forces far beyond her control were conspiring to keep her down for a long time.

She stared out the window into space, studying the peaceful blue and green and white world below, thinking, wondering when it would all end. The grounding, the assassination attempts, the war…

Her reverie was broken by the sound of her door chime. Looking over, she said, "Come in."

She smiled when she saw the doors part, and Adam walk through them, obviously off duty, wearing a pair of jeans and a polo shirt. "Hey, Ally," he said.

"Hi, Adam."

"How're you feeling?"

"Better. A little bored," she replied absently. She glanced at the PADD he was carrying. "Time for the test?"

"Huh?" Adam looked at her, for a moment, obviously confused, and then he realized what she meant, glancing at the PADD. "Oh, no. No, no. This is just a progress report on the ion dart launchers." He stuck it in his pocket and walked over to her, sitting on the other end of the couch, facing her. "Nah, forget the test." His voice softened, and in a gravelly tone, he said, "Already know you, that which you need."

Allura chuckled at his Yoda impression.

"Seriously," he continued, "you know how to fly. The rest is following procedures on checklists. We'll do a few more check rides, but the fact is, you're qualified."

"What about combat training?"

"Like I said, you know how to fly and use weapons. The rest is just practice."

Allura nodded, but said nothing. All this talk of flying was just reminding her of how unlikely it was that she'd ever fly again.

As if reading her thoughts, Adam leaned over and placed his hand on hers. "Don't worry. I'm trying my damndest to get out of flying Blue. She's a nice ride, but _Thunder_ don't fight me half as much. Besides, we need you up there." He looked into her eyes. "_I _need you up there."

She clasped his hand tightly in wordless thanks, smiling, but not taking her eyes from his. "I owe you a lot, Adam. Thank you."

Adam smiled back. "Hey, what're wingmen for?" he asked for the umpteenth time, the familiar phrase warming the moment between them. But in that moment, both of them knew they were much more than just wingmen.

Finally, the moment passed. Adam stood up, pulling Allura to her feet. "Come on. I want to show you something."

* * *

_Castle Doom_

_Planet Doom_

Haggar slunk into Zarkon's throne room, her blue cat, Coba, trailing along behind. She found the chamber empty save for the Doom monarch, and walked to the foot of the throne pedestal, kneeling before Zarkon.

"So, is it done then, witch?" He asked gruffly.

"No, my lord."

"'No'? Did I hear that right? Allura lives?"

"Yes, Zarkon."

Howling in anger, Zarkon leapt to his feet. "Why? Why am I forced to rely on such incapable idiots?" he roared. Pointing his scepter at the witch, he said, "You have failed me for the last time, Haggar. I'll have no more of your incompetence and excuses fouling my plans."

"My only mistake was placing too much confidence in technology. I had believed Driscoll was already dead." Haggar went on to explain how she'd been able to board the _Berlin_, how she thought she'd killed Driscoll and the doctor, and was about to finish Allura, when everything had fallen apart. "Truly, King Zarkon, who carries a weapon that doesn't kill?"

"These bleeding-heart Starfleeters, it seems," Zarkon allowed.

"Had it not been for Driscoll not being dead, I would have had no trouble." Haggar added.

"That boy _is_ far more trouble than he's worth," Zarkon mused.

At that moment, a page walked into the chamber. Zarkon and Haggar watched him approach. "A message for Your Highness from Prince Lotor." He handed the message to Zarkon, bowed and left. "Speaking of more trouble than he's worth," Zarkon grumbled as he began to read the message. When he finished, he stood and called for a guard. When the man approached, Zarkon fixed him with a cold glare. "Prepare my battle fleet for departure!"

"Yes, King Zarkon," the guard said with a crisp salute before turning on his heel and hurrying from the chamber.

"Your fleet, sire?" Haggar asked.

"I build this empire, Haggar. I commanded the conquest of world after world, until none would dare resist me. _Including _Arus! It's time you and my nincompoop of a son learned how it's done."

Haggar said nothing.

"Prepare a robeast worthy of my efforts, and notify me when it's ready."

"Yes, sire," Haggar replied, as Zarkon turned and left the chamber.

* * *

_20__th__ Century Earth_

_Buffalo, New York_

They stood in a narrow alley between two buildings. One beige-painted cinderblock and the other brick. "Where are we?" Allura asked. When Adam had told her to come on, he'd held out his hand, and she'd taken it. There was a barely perceptible flash and a quickly-passing wave of mild vertigo, and they were here, wherever "here" was, still holding Adam's hand.

Adam released her hand and led her out from between the buildings. They were in a parking lot, the blacktop cracking, the lines badly faded. The sidewalks surrounding it were likewise cracked and in disrepair, the curbs crumbling. Across the street was a cemetery. As she looked around, she could see that they were actually standing on a street corner.

Adam smiled at her. "Well, I figured you might like to get away for a bit. This is my home dimension."

Allura looked around again, with a new awareness of what she was seeing. Another place, and really, another time. Far from awestruck, but intrigued nonetheless, she followed Adam's lead across the side street. "My house is a couple blocks down that way," he said, pointing down the street as they crossed. They walked up to a small, red building, smelling the odors of fried food. The glass door read "Jane and Michael's Subs."

"Ha ha! Check out Dick-sel!"

The pilots turned to see two boys walking towards them, jeering. Both were tall and of medium build, with one, a blond boy with long hair and a large nose, somewhat lankier than the other. The other was slightly shorter, dark-complected, almost Mediterranean with blue eyes,

"What're you doing here, Diesel? Why don'tcha go feed your cats or somethin'?"

"Go blow yourself, Ron," said Adam

"And who's this, your sister?" The shorter kid asked.

"Dude, get a life. Isn't there some small, helpless animal you should be harassing?"

"That's why we keep you around."

Adam rolled his eyes. Allura could see he was getting annoyed.

By this time, the taller kid had moved around between the pilots and the door, and he said to Allura, "Why don't you ditch this little bitch and come have some fun with a real man?"

"Only bitch I see around here is you," Adam shot back at him. He glanced at the other boy. "Okay, two bitches."

"What did you just call me?" The shorter boy asked, cupping his ear and sidling closer.

"Going deaf too, Alan? I said that you're Ron's little… oof!" Adam's sentence was cut off as the other boy's fist slammed into his stomach, doubling him over.

"Hey, back off," Allura warned as the boys laughed.

"What an asshole," Ron laughed, turning to Allura. "Why would you want such a little bitch boy?"

"Give it up Ron. She probably charges by the hour," Alan said.

Coughing, Adam straightened up, his face red, a snarl curling his lip. He glared at the other boys.

"What? Whatcha gonna do? You want some more?" Alan said, spreading his arms, inviting Adam to fight.

Adam's fists clenched. Only Allura's hand on his shoulder broke the murderous chain of thoughts running through his head. "Come on," she said softly. Adam straightened and opened the door for her, and they headed into the restaurant. Not trusting himself to speak, he kept his lips pressed tightly together.

"Are you all right?" Allura asked. Adam nodded, his hands dropping to his sides, flexing. "Who were those idiots?"

"Just a couple punks who love to screw with people. Bullies."

"Why would they come after you?" She asked.

"Well, that's kinda my fault. I don't fight back when stuff happens, for one. Also, I have a big mouth. I've made a few wisecracks that probably haven't helped the situation." He led her over to the counter. "That's how I am around here. A smart guy with a smart mouth and not enough sense to keep it shut when I should. Sometimes I'm just an ass."

Allura let him order for them. He paid the cashier and they took their subs over to a table in a quiet corner. "So this is where you're really from, huh?"

"Yep It's kind of run down by Starfleet standards, but it's home." He smiled at her.

They ate quietly for several minutes, Finally, Allura said, "This is pretty good."

"Wait until you try chicken wings. Maybe next time, I'll take you over to Fudd's."

Allura watched the cars passing by outside the window, the afternoon sun casting long shadows among the headstones across the street, people coming and going in the restaurant, few so much as glancing in their direction. To everyone else, she was just an ordinary person.

And she liked it.

Finishing their food, they looked at each other a moment, neither knowing quite what to say. "I don't suppose there's anything to fly around here?" Allura asked finally, half-smiling.

Adam smiled back. "Well, looks like someone's feeling better."

"No, just tired of sitting around while life happens around me."

"Well, you were hurt, and you're still on restricted status."

"It isn't that. I just want to be my own person. Make my own choices without having to justify them. Here, I could walk out that door and down the street and nobody would stop me or even think about it. On Arus…" She rolled her eyes. "Body guards, security sweeps, if I can even get out of the Castle at all."

"But here, you're not ruler of a planet at war. You're just Allura Altaine."

"I know that I have to be careful. What I'm saying is…" She sighed and locked her eyes with Adam's. "Why doesn't anyone trust me to be?"

Adam reached across the table and took her hand. "Ally, the only think keeping you from doing your own thing is you. You let everyone keep you down. I'm not saying you should ignore Doc Gorma when he tells you to take it easy, or Coran when he says to stay put because the whole castle is under intruder alert." He paused. "You need to think like a commander. Weigh all the options and information, then decide. Then stick to it unless there's good reason to change. Act, but deliberately. You want to be your own person? Do it."

Allura nodded. "I know. You're right. Sometimes it's just so hard. I just don't care what anybody says. I act like…"

"A little kid?" Adam finished with a knowing smirk.

"Yes."

"And that's when Nanny and Coran treat you like one. Many times, they're overreacting, and wrong. But sometimes, they're dead right. And sometimes you have to suck it up and do things you might otherwise not choose to."

"Like coming on the _Berlin_ when the Castle isn't secure," Allura ventured.

Adam nodded. "Yep."

Allura looked down, studying the scratches in the table's surface. "My father used to say that life isn't always easy, and that it's how we deal with those difficulties that shows our true character," she said quietly.

"Smart man," Adam said with an acknowledging nod.

"Well, now I know."

Adam smiled at her. "Yep. Now you can fix all those flaws."

Allura laughed. "Look who's talking, temper-boy."

Adam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, okay, ya got me. Jeez." He looked at his watch. "Well, it's about time to head home, I think."

Allura nodded and rose, and the pair walked back to the alley. Then, in another flash, they were back in Allura's stateroom aboard the _Berlin_. Allura looked around, expecting to find the place swarming with security, trying to figure out where they'd gone. As she glanced at the clock to see exactly how long that was, she was shocked to find that it had literally been no time at all. When she pointed out to Adam that no time had passed, he just smiled at her.

"Nope, never does. I always end up at the same time and place I left from. Except when I go between here and Starfleet. Because of the wormhole, my absence would be noticed, because the dimensions are linked, which creates a time continuity. Time only stops when you travel between isolated universes. Comes in handy when I need to think in the middle of combat," he added with a wink.

Allura smirked. "That's cheating."

Adam threw his hands up defensively. "Hey, all's fair in love and war. Besides, I only do it once in a blue moon."

Still smiling, and unconvinced, Allura thanked him for dinner, and bade him good night.


	14. Another GoRound

_Thought I'd finally gone and left, didn't ya? Well, wrong-o. I'm still here, unassimilated and ready for another sortie. Suffice it to say things in the world have not been conducive to writing, and the next couple chapters have been sitting for some time, but here they are, and here I am. I know how I want this one to finish out, and I hope to have it done within the next 2-3 months, and then on to the next adventure, which I'm really excited about. But enough of that._

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything that belongs to WEP or CBS/Paramount, so don't sue me. I'm not making any money off this anyway. What I do own are the crew of the _Berlin_, except Mordock and Scotty, the fighter _Thunderwing,_ and the story itself._

Star Tron: The Retreat

Chapter 14: Another Go-Round

_Doom Battleship _Conquest of Zohar

_Doom Shipyard_

Lotor sat on the bridge of his ship, brooding silently as he watched the activity around him. The ship would soon depart on its first shakedown cruise, but Lotor cared little for the drones scurrying around the ship like ants. Enthroned on his high command chair, all of Lotor's thoughts were focused on one thing.

_Betrayal_.

His father, Haggar, Cossack, the attempts to kill Allura… How dare they? Allura was _his_! She was the prize for capturing Arus. She was the one reason he hadn't bombed the surface of that whole miserable planet into molten glass!

And now they were going to ruin it all.

He knew that his father wanted Arus destroyed and Voltron dismantled. He wanted the Voltron Force and their allies dead. And he could have them. But not Allura.

_Not_ Allura.

He had protested these actions to his father, demanded that the king stop at once. The reply had been characteristically blunt. He was told to do as he was ordered, and perhaps he would be allowed to play some small part in Arus' coming defeat.

This, perhaps, was an even greater affront than the attempts to kill Allura. He'd been reduced in status to a mere fleet commander! The same as that moron Cossack! Who, he reflected, would probably command the battle fleet that would soon be sent to Arus.

But he knew he had time. There would be no attack without a robeast to face Voltron. Perhaps two. Anything else would be suicide. That alone would take several days. Then they would need time to assemble the fleet and plan the attack.

He had time. And if all the shakedown tests were successful, he could be ready.

_Gladiator Arena_

_Planet Doom_

The light was blinding.

Harsh, white light flooded the amphitheater, blinding the robeast as it walked out from the dark tunnel onto the bloodstained sands of the arena. Raising a steel-feathered wing to shield its eyes, it saw the other gates open, its opponents walking out, similarly afflicted. The roar of the crowd was almost deafening as the four robeasts took their places for the contest.

They were four of Haggar's newest robeasts, and while their intelligence was comparable only to that of a monkey or a large bird, they knew very well why they were here. To fight to the death for the honor of leading an attack against Voltron.

The robeast surveyed its opponents. One was humanoid in form, with a head like a frog and a body like an ape. Another resembled an octopus, with four legs and four arms, alternating around a spherical head with a shark-like mouth and black eyes. The third was another humanoid, encased in spiked armor and wielding a vicious-looking pike.

As the robeast assessed its opponents, it thought briefly on its own appearance. Resembling a plucked ostrich with vicious, hooked claws on its feet and sharp blades in place of feathers on its wings. Its head was that of a cobra, the hood forming a hard, sharp-edged shield behind its head.

A fanfare of trumpets signaled the beginning of the fight. Immediately, the armored humanoid hurled his pike, impaling the frog-headed ape's shoulder. It staggered back, then pulled the weapon from its flesh, bellowing a challenge at its attacker.

But the other two weren't idle. Seeing an opportunity, ostrich and octopus converged on the wounded robeast, looking for a quick kill as the armored knight watched his target warily before joining the rush.

The fight would be over quickly.

Spinning on his heel, the ape thrust the pike through the octopus' gaping mouth and out the back of its head as it tried to pounce. The creature fell to the ground, convulsing in its death throes.

As this was happening, the bird leapt up, over the ape, and kicked the humanoid over backward, its talons tearing through the armor and into the soft flesh of the robeast. The humanoid howled in pain as it fell, flailing at the bird, which ducked its head, using the shield to ward off the blows.

Crushing blows rained on the ostrich's hood, threatening to drive it back, but the ostrich held firm, it's claws securely lodged in its opponent's chest. Lifting one leg, it kicked down, cracking the breastplate, the claws digging deeper into the humanoid's chest, damaging tissue and bionics alike. The blows striking its still-bowed head became weaker, and with a second kick, the humanoid was still.

But a roar from behind reminded the steel bird that the fight was not over. The frog-headed ape still remained, its blood-red eyes glaring menacingly. Before the bird could react, the frog leapt, covering the several dozen feet to his opponent in a single bound, tackling the bird and knocking it off its feet. The two robeasts tumbled to the ground, punching, kicking, clawing at each other.

In this wrestling contest, the ape was the better, managing to pin the bird beneath it, holding it down on its back, biting at it's neck, trying to sink its great fangs in for a killing blow. But suddenly, it felt the bird's feet beneath its chest, and a moment later was sent flying back through the air. As the frog-headed robeast slowly rose to its feet, it saw that the bird had already done the same, and now stood there, motionless.

Waiting.

The ape would oblige, Bellowing in fury, it charged, its massive arms spread, fists balled, ready to pulverize the demonic bird before it. But in a flash, the bird was gone, and a sharp, rending pain tore through the ape's side.

The ape skidded to a halt, looking down, seeing a wicked, ragged gash in its side, it looked up at the bird, and saw its own blood dripping from one steely wing. The bird watched the ape, weaving its head slowly, in a snakelike manner, before rushing again. A second pain, on the other side now, as the bird struck again.

Another attack followed, and another. The ape's head spun from confusion and loss of blood. Down on one knee now, the ape watched the bird, who just stared right back, like before. Its head bobbed again, and the bird leapt, landing on the ape, its talons stabbing through the ape's back. It tried to roll, to get up, to throw the bird off, but it was too weak. With a final, feeble roar of defiance, the frog-headed ape was still.

The bird threw its head back and cried a victory howl to the spectators, who were cheering wildly, thrilled with the display of lethal agility and cunning they'd just witnessed.

High above, in the royal box, King Zarkon nodded in approval, and a dark, hooded shape melted into the shadows. A moment later, one of the portculli in the arena opened, and the robeast walked proudly through the gate to claim its destiny.

_Starfleet Construction Battalion Headquarters_

_Olessa, Arus_

Commander Wright sat at his desk, going over the reports from his various field teams. Altogether, things were going pretty much as expected. Supply problems, lack of manpower, unreasonable time deadlines… all part of the life of a Starfleet Seabee.

Especially that Castle job. Not that the extra haste wasn't warranted, but it was a perfect opportunity to push for more men and improvement of the supply chain. Instead, he'd had to shift more men over to that project, leaving fewer to work on the harbor and the surrounding towns. Not the way he'd have liked to see things happen, but his was not to wonder why…

But now, he had another problem. Most of the structural and systems modifications in the Castle of Lions were finished, but they were still waiting for the arrival of the weapon systems. Unfortunately for him, phaser strips and torpedo launchers were almost all assigned to starship and base construction. The waiting list for "non-essential" installations was huge, and he wasn't very high on it. And without those weapon systems, they couldn't finish the Castle. Perhaps not for another two to three months.

Two or three more months for a job that he could otherwise finish within the week. Not exactly the kind of report he wanted to deliver to Coran and Captain Driscoll, given the importance of the modifications that were ordered.

As he mulled over how best to deliver the bad news, he went through the other reports on his desk. Things were progressing fairly well in Olessa. They'd just finished work on an apartment building, which was already accepting tenants. In a few more weeks, they'd reach the halfway point on restoring the market district. Of course, that just meant that fifty percent of the work had been done, which also included razing destroyed and burned out hulks and prepping sites for new construction. And most of that work was mostly due to the efforts of local builders. Wright's people were more involved in supply and advisement work. Still, it was a notable achievement. He liked to think of construction as the easy part.

Shavena was also moving along. It had been decided that the ships sunk at anchor would remain in place, and the docks would be extended and repaired around them, with suitable allowances made for the later construction and placement of memorials to mark each ship's resting place and the crewmen lost on each. The dockfront buildings and warehouses would follow later, as time permitted and necessity demanded.

Also, as with the other major towns, defensive emplacements had been ordered, and siting was complete for a network of ten torpedo launchers and thirty phaser batteries around Shavena. He noted the fact that the weapons had already arrived and were currently warehoused on the starbase in orbit.

He set the PADD aside and reached for another, then paused. He picked up the Shavena report again, rereading the last section. _Quartermaster reports weapon systems have arrived and been stored aboard the starbase pending installation._

_Weapon systems have arrived. _Ten torpedo launchers, thirty phaser batteries.

He called for the chief quartermaster.


	15. The Time Draws Nigh

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything that belongs to WEP or CBS/Paramount, so don't sue me. I'm not making any money off this anyway. What I do own are the crew of the _Berlin_, except Mordock and Scotty, the fighter _Thunderwing,_ and the story itself._

Star Tron: The Retreat

Chapter 15: The Time Draws Nigh

_Doom Battleship_ Hand of Wrath

Port Haldor, Planet Doom

The bridge of the battleship was dark. Only a few, dim lights illuminated the key stations. All were unmanned, the chamber silent, as Zarkon stood by the command chair. This class of warship had long since been retired from the Doom Star Armada. Only this one example still served as Zarkon's personal flagship. The _Hand of Wrath_ had been maintained in dock for years, quietly waiting for its master's call to duty.

From this ship, this bridge, Zarkon had brought many worlds into the empire. All the great victories that paved his way to the throne were achieved from the very chair his hand now rested upon.

_You're needed again, old friend,_ he mused in the dark silence. _Back to Arus, to crush them once and for all_.

He'd seen the progress reports from Lotor, and knew the _Conquest of Zohar_ wouldn't be ready to join his fleet when it sailed tomorrow. No matter. His fifty ships were the most powerful in the empire, his fighter squadrons were the best trained, and the robeast now being loaded aboard was the most deadly he'd seen yet.

He knew Voltron wouldn't be a factor in this fight. He'd lose a few ships to the _Berlin_ of course, but it wouldn't stop him. Overwhelm the starship, crush the Castle of Lions, and the rest would be mop-up.

Zarkon was not a man given to excesses of confidence or enthusiasm, but even he could see only victory on the horizon.

_Castle of Lions_

_Arus_

"Shields are up, all weapons online and standing by," said Commander Wright.

"Locking phasers," Coran replied. "Firing."

A barrage of crimson beams lashed out from the phaser strips on the castle's turrets, each one vaporizing a target drone. Wright frowned from his console on the periphery of Castle Control, seeing a cascade of irredescent energy ripple along the shield bubble. "Phasers are out of sync with the shields. All right, Coran, stand down."

"Powering down weapons and shields," the advisor acknowledged. "I also noticed a definite lag between entering the firing command and the actual firing of the phasers."

Wright examined the data on his console. "1.79 seconds," he confirmed finally. "We'll look into it."

"Thank you, Commander," Coran replied. "You've done wonders."

"Just some logistical reorganizing, Minister." Wright replied. Actually, what he had done was more akin to creative sleight of hand. With the phaser units for the Castle of Lions still on backorder, Wright had decided to use the phasers slated to be installed in Shavena to defend the harbor installations. Shavena would get the castle units when they arrived. This had saved several weeks on the work time, and would not affect any other reconstruction work in Shavena or Olessa. A perfect move.

Now, all that remained was to synchronize the phasers and shields, and re-install the armor on the castle towers. Just a few more days' work.

_Keith's Room_

_Castle of Lions_

Keith paused the playback, reversed, then watched the last thirty seconds over again. He watched as the Voltron Force executed a 90-degree formation turn, and Blue Lion opened far out to the side, losing formation for five seconds before recovering.

Enough time for a gaggle of Stingers to work him over but good.

Adam was improving in Blue Lion, but he and the cat had yet to mesh as a combat team. Keith didn't entirely buy Allura's view that the Lions had some sort of soul or sentience, but he did acknowledge that there was more to flying one than just knowing the controls.

Adam hadn't reached that level yet. About the only thing he really had down cold was basic formation flight, weapons, and Voltron Interface. Enough to fight, in other words, but still far from mastery.

And that could make all the difference.

With every passing hour, the likelihood of a new attack grew. The castle was still largely defenseless as the weapons and shields were fine tuned and the armor plating was reinstalled. Voltron and the _Berlin_ were all they had.

And if the next attack was all he expected it to be, it wouldn't be enough. They needed the castle back, and they needed Allura.

_Royal Study_

_Castle of Lions_

Coran walked into Allura's study to gather some papers to send up to her on the starship. As he walked in, he was surprised to see Allura seated at her desk, perusing a folder of documents. She looked up at him. "Oh, hello, Coran."

"Your Highness," Coran replied with a nod. "I was just coming to gather those documents for you. I didn't expect…"

A chirp. "Berlin_ calling Princess Allura."_

Allura fished the combadge out of her pocket and tapped it with her thumb. "Allura here."

"_We're detecting someone in the room with you._"

"It's all right, it's only Coran."

"_Acknowledged_."

A moment later, Coran's communticator beeped. He pulled it out and answered, "This is Coran."

The same voice as before said, "_This is Lieutenant Mordock, sir. Are you with the Princess?_"

"I am, thank you, Lieutenant."

"_Very good, sir._"

Coran looked at Allura. "A prudent precaution, Princess."

"And I checked in with the duty sergeant in security, and I spoke with Pidge on my way up here," she told him.

Coran nodded. "As I was saying, I didn't expect you."

"I refuse to be exiled from my own home any longer, Coran. I know the upgrades are finished, and the armor will be fully reinstalled in the next few days. I am as safe here as I ever was."

"That's true, but perhaps you should go back for one more day after you've seen Dr. Gorma."

"Dr. Saladin already checked me. I'm fine." Seeing Coran about to add something, she continued, "But, I'm going to rest for another day or so and catch up on some administrative work."

Coran nodded, walking over to a window behind her desk. Looking out, he said, "Allura, you know Nanny and I only want you to be safe. Even though that isn't always possible."

"I know, Coran. But sometimes, you both have to trust me to keep myself safe," she replied, turning to face him.

"Now that you've begun to show that you understand what that means, I believe I shall do just that. You see, it's not about simply not being in danger. It's about prudence. Managing the risks you take."

Allura nodded. "I understand that now. And I'll keep it in mind in the future."

Coran turned and came to the side of the desk. "I trust that you will." He gestured to the papers Allura had been examining. "Now, what shall we do about replacing the Naval frigates now that Shavena harbor is almost ready?"

_Doom Battleship _Hand of Wrath

Planet Doom

It is said that a ship reflects its master. It was certainly true of the _Hand of Wrath_. It was not a pretty ship by any means. It was obviously older than the sleek battleships around it, its lines rougher, less refined. It lacked the tall conning tower of the newer ships, having only a low dome on the top, just behind the midline of the ship. Its main weapons ringed its beam, rather than being mounted on her bows. The bow of the ship was faceted, chisel-like, thickly armored and strengthened for ramming. The _Hand of Wrath _was a trireme among galleons.

Over the years, weapons had been added, removed, and modified, leaving the ship with a ragged, prickly quality that did nothing to hide its purpose. It was a warship, pure and simple.

On the bridge, her master sat in his command chair. On his right hand stood Haggar, patiently waiting, holding her cat in her arms. On the left stood Cossack, standing by to carry out his King's orders. It would be his job to coordinate with the rest of the fleet and see that Zarkon's orders were executed promptly.

A droid soldier approached Cossack and delivered a report, which Cossack turned to Zarkon and repeated. "The fleet is ready, sire, and awaiting your orders."

Zarkon stood. "Fleet channel." A crewman signaled that the channel was open, and Zarkon spoke. "Today, we finish what was begun years ago. What should have _been_ finished years ago. We sail to Arus, where we will put an end to Voltron forever. We will crush the Federation ships, demolish the Castle of Lions, and lay waste to the entire planet. We will leave nothing but ash and flame behind us, and show once and for all that nothing can stand against the power of the Doom Empire."

He looked around at the armada around him through the armored viewports. "I command all ships to proceed to Arus at full speed. Let nothing stand in your way."

Haggar's cat yowled as Zarkon sat down again, and Cossack began relaying rapid orders for course and formation.

As the fleet began to move out, Zarkon turned to Haggar. "This time, there will be no mistakes."

Haggar nodded. "May it be so, sire."


End file.
